The Price of Milk
by Cricket Tealeaf
Summary: Having survived a five-year incarceration, Fiyero is thrown back into the world but greatly changed.  Graphic flashbacks of torture and such nastiness, however. Runs parallel to my other fic The Butterfly
1. Chapter 1

In the end they had won.

All along he had practiced in self-deception, believing that he could endure. That whatever they could do to him he could take. They could not break him. He would not be defeated.

And surely Elphie, though grief-stricken, would be outraged. She would not rest until she found him. He knew his lover, did he not? She would not abandon him to this fate. It was only a matter of time...

Time wore on. The days grew short and chill and then hot again. Two, three, four times over. Still he clung foolishly to hope. Elphie was coming. She must be close. She would not leave him!

And then came that final morning. He defied his chief tormentor, in an act so blatantly contemptuous, that he had shocked himself. I will not talk, you cannot make me, it said in an astoundingly crude manner. This was irrefutable proof of that.

The boy, for he could hardly have been eighteen, had flown into a magnificent rage. Taking one of the irons out of the fire grate and and burning out his eyes.

The pain was worse than anything he had known previously. After five years they had finally bested him. For all that time, he remained silent, not giving information, nor so much as giving voice to the agony they provided. But that day his screams could be heard from the upper levels.

He had no name. He had stripped himself of that honor, in his shame and ruin. _His stupid pride. _And for all his loyalty and devotion, it seemed Elphie couldn't have cared less.

There was no hope. Never had been. Now he realized that.

And finally they released them. But by this point it was the worst thing they could have done. He would have resigned himself to languish further behind the prison walls. Now whereever he went or whatever he did, he would be little more than a burden. He was ruined now, and they knew it.

* * *

"I hate being on this side of Emerald City," Glinda said, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"It exists," Crope said, giving her a look. "Can't pretend it's not there." He was challenging her, in an uncharacteristic way.

"I can," she said, pointedly. She lifted her chin, looking even more stuck-up than usual, and put the fringe of her fur stole to her nose.

He grumbled to himself at the gesture.

A man was sitting in the alleyway beside them, looking utterly despondent. Crope stared at him, knowing he was being rude. But a thick scarf covered the man's eyes. _Blind, _Crope thought with a twinge of pity.

But Glinda was more than ready to go. She followed Crope's gaze. She curled her lip at the sight of him. "Lets go," she said impatiently.

The blind man turned his head at the sound of her voice.

"Oh no," she gasped. "Do you think he sees us," she said, glancing at Crope.

Her sensitivity amazed him. "Somehow, I doubt that." He approached the blind man, who apparently had heard him coming and shyed away. "I know who you are," Crope said, the second he realized, surprising himself.

_No_, the blind man thought. _You knew who I was. I'm not him anymore. They destroyed that man in the prison. I have no name. I have no identity. I'm as ruined on the inside as on the out_. He shook his head, vehemently.

Crope frowned. Or atleast, he imagined that's what happened. "It is you, Fiyero. I know I'm not mistaken," his old friend said.

"You're wrong. They killed Fiyero. He's dead. This is just what's left," the blind man tried to say but his voice was so thick from having lost his tongue that he doubted he was understood. That particular one was self-inflicted, the thing that had set them off and lead to his current state. He bowed his head in self-loathing, for once glad that he had been so maimed. This way he couldn't see the disapproving look Crope was giving him.

Crope remained silent for awhile. The blind man thought he had left. It was best. He prefered it that way. Leave him to die. He had no will anymore.

But then Crope spoke up. "They really brought you down. What happened? On second thought, if this is the result, I don't want to know." He grabbed hold of Fiyero's arm and tried to pull him up. "Here, I'll take you to the Unionist Chapel. They'll help you there."

The blind man refused, shrank back even more. "Leave me. Forget about me."

"You're not going to be another Tibbet. I won't be party to that again."

He relaxed. So that was it. Not for him. But for past sin. Some sort of penance for earlier failure. And so he allowed it.

"Oh come now, I'm all for charity but this is a bit much," Glinda could be heard saying.

Crope lost his patience. "Show some respect," he barked at her.

But even this small thing was a trial. For both men. At some point they had put him on a machine that stretched his limbs beyond their endurance. His knees had been pulled out and had not healed as they should. This made walking difficult and painful even. He resisted again, knowing how it must be for Crope. And he certainly wasn't worth the effort.

"Stop," Crope grunted.

"Don't," the blind man insisted.

"Not going to happen," was the reply.

"Lets just go," Glinda said, growing impatient.

Crope continued to ignore her as he helped his old friend into the back of the wagon and gave him a blanket. Fiyero pulled it around himself and leaned to one side, resting against some barrels.

Crope gave him one last look and pulled himself into the dickey box with a haughty looking Glinda beside him. He shook the reins and the horse began to move at a lazy pace.

She opened her mouth to say something but he cut her off. "Spare me, don't you know who that is?"

"It's a Winkie, but what's that to me?"

"It's Fiyero," he said sharply.

"Nonsense. I'm sure most of them have markings. Besides, he wouldn't let himself come to that, now would he?" But even as she spoke, she questioned herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Injuries aside, he had maintained relatively perfect health while locked away. Maybe it was the strength of his spirit, his refusal to let his situation get the best of him.

But now in the Mauntery, among the ill and infirm, a fever plagued him.

Malnourished and broken in spirit he fell completely under it's grip and delerium took hold. In his mind, he returned to the prison:

_His name was Jemmsy and he was hardly more than a boy. Age aside, he had a deft hand with the knife and the iron._

_The men came dragging a half-concious Winkie between them. A Winkie! Jemmsy stared agog. What in Oz was a Winkie doing in Emerald City? And more importantly how had he run afoul of the Gale Force?_

_A chain was suspended from the rafters. It hung about six foot from the ground. The men shackled the prisoner at the wrists and left him hanging there for Jemmsy._

_And so it began. Jemmsy stuck a few of his irons in the fire grate. Several minutes passed before he removed one. He placed it up against the Winkie's bare foot. This was effective in waking him up. But he made no sound, save for a sharp intake of breath. Jemmsy was impressed but that did not keep him from breaking out the thumbscrews._

_"Actually, these aren't thumbscrews. These are called pilliwinks. I bet you're wondering, what's the difference? No? Well, I'll tell you anyway. Thumbscrews are obviously just for thumbs. While these, the pilliwinks can be used on any and all of the fingers," he said in a light conversational tone._

_The Winkie raised his head and gave Jemmsy a wild-eyed look._

_Jemmsy freed one of his hands. The prisoner grunted with the strain of hanging by one wrist. It can't be easy, Jemmsy mused, staring at the now lopsided figure in front of him. He shrugged and slipped the glove over the free hand. He twisted and spun the knob until he heard the tell-tale snapping of bone._

_To his credit the Winkie did not scream. He did not beg. He did not even weep. Again, Jemmsy was admired his stoic resolve. And a bit put out by it. Or maybe his heart just wasn't in it this morning. He went through a bit more with his irons but it was seeming all too much like a routine._

_Now shoved back in his cell, and left alone, Fiyero nursed his broken fingers. His tormentor had only damaged one hand. Probably something worse planned for the other. Or maybe they needed it whole so he could sign a confession. He cradled the damaged one against his chest and sank down to the floor._

_A rat stared at him from the other side of the squalid cell. It rested on a forgotten body, preening itself in a catlike manner. He thought about Malky for a moment and shivered. Something about that cat... He stretched out his legs. He had bigger problems than Malky now._

_He thought of Elphaba. And her reaction in coming back to the loft. Finding it doused with his blood. What does she feel right now, he wondered. Shock? Anger? Confusion? He tried not to think on it._

_She would find him. He knew. She wouldn't stop looking and then they would leave Emerald City together. The Wizard's Army would surely not march on Kiamo Ko. They would live there together and to hell with what Sarima thought._

_That was the plan anyway. Elphie wouldn't leave him here to rot. "I'm waiting for you, Fae," he whispered. And he held onto that thought._

Sister Saint Aelphaba made her rounds. She lifted a dying soldier's head and spooned a mixture of water and pinlobble leaves into his wanting mouth.

In the adjacent bed, a man thrashed and moaned. He arrived two days before with gruesome but non-fatal injuries, clearly having been tortured in the company of Gale Forcers, they liked to taking them apart and throw them back out like that, only to contract firelung from one of the other patients.

Sundew, she decided. And Valerian root to calm his troubled spirit. She sighed and began to prepare the mixture.

"Elphaba," he cried into the neverending darkness. He moaned and sobbed her name.

She reached around behind her, and took hold of his heavily bandaged hand. "Shhh...," she murmured softly, trying to soothe the patient. She couldn't understand him, but made no remark on the fact.

_Mankind, capable of such atrocities_, she thought, her eyes sweeping the room. The thought made _her_ ill. She turned from the soldier and to the prisoner.

His fingers curled around hers, much as he could manage; his hands having been mangled like much of the rest of him. It seemed that it was her name he kept calling so desperately. But she put it down to a fancy. She hadn't known any of the Arjiki tribe save for her doomed lover. She touched a green finger to a blue marking on the poor man's arm. He flinched and moaned at her touch. A diamond, she realized.

Unbidden came a rush of hope. She wiped his brow with a dry cloth.

Fiyero had a scar on his left shoulder where he had slipped up stringing a bow. She hesitated to look. She'd rather him have died that night in the loft rather than forced to suffer unthinkable torment for these few past years. She made up her mind and pulled his collar back. She gave voice to her shock and horror. It _was_ her Fiyero! It was! But look what they had done to him. _What she had done_.

Her hands shook. She couldn't hold the spoon to give him the medicine. Sister Saint Halfrida was twelve beds away. She waved the other Maunt  
down. She grasped Fiyero's hand in her own as though one or the other would die if she let go of it. She made up her mind, holding onto his arm as Halfrida treated him.


	3. Chapter 3

_The brutal torture of this story comes from medieval European gaolers and the beautifully insidious mind of my bestest cyberbuddy Donttouch, look her up sometime, like right away after reading this__. _

_For those of you who have not read A Lion Among Men, a young man named Jemmsy dies a horrible slow death and I kept thinking Why? Oz has a heavy sense of karma so what did he do to deserve it? So I script him time and again as Fiyero's chief tormentor._

_So Donttouch shared some ideas about the uses of metal pins and the torture being documented. Since they don't have cameras in Oz, my own twisted mind got to work and I allude to William Goldman's Princess Bride. _

_And also, Jemmsy uses curare to paralyze Fiyero._

* * *

_Some broken things you can' mend. Some you have to put together piece by fragile piece, waiting until the last bit of work is strong enough before you try the next.- Daughter of the Forest, Juliet Marillier  
_

For days he shivered and moaned and fought against the illness that ravaged his body. Aelphaba stuck by his side, ignoring her other wards  
If, in fact, it turned out that she did have a soul, it was him.

One night when his fever was near breaking, he teetered somewhere between delirium and cognizance, he had a waking nightmare. It seemed that he was back laying in the filth and slime of the prison cell. He felt the usual presence of cockroaches crawling over him as he tried to sleep. A hunting spider pounced and devoured her prey while Fiyero tried to stifle his revulsion.

All the while, reality tried to assert itself and he heard a gentle but insistent voice beckoning him. _A rat stared at him from atop a bloated and forgotten corpse._

"Why?" he tried to say.

Why what, she wondered. Why did they come after him? Or why should he listen to her? "Because I loved you and because I love you," she told him. She lay down beside him, put her face against his. He was burning hot. His face had hollowed dramatically and touching his chest she felt every rib.

"My fault, my fault," she whispered. She moved closer. "Stay with me. You must stay with me," she pleaded with him.

Clarity faded away and he returned to the cell. _The men came again and dragged him back to the same room as before. They dropped Fiyero unceremoniously onto a table. One of them held him down by his shoulders while the other kept his legs from moving. Jemmsy approached, moving lazily and seemed to be bored with the turn of events._

_He was holding something in his hand. He held it up so Fiyero could see. "The Wizard calls this a needle, but I've never seen one like it, myself. Not good for sewing anyway." He went on to produce a small bottle. "And this he said was something like cowry. I don't know," he said yawning. He came around, preparing the needle. Fiyero watched in horrified fascination. _

_Jemmsy stuck him in the upper arm and emptied the contents. He stepped back and stared at Fiyero, who stared back. Nothing happened. That is_  
_to say Fiyero was slow in coming to realize he had been paralyzed._

_Jemmsy continued to talk in the same calm, quiet tone. "It is very important for my research that you try and retain a clear head. Give your experience your full attention. If you should feel yourself beginning to lose consciousness try and alert me, will you? I know it will be difficult with you paralyzed and everything but I'm sure you will think of something."_

_Jemmsy began his dark work. It was obvious immediately how to go about it. A pin for each diamond. He certainly had enough of them for it. And they were hollow, he realized with a thrill of delight. That would make this all the more enjoyable._

Fiyero sat up abruptly, startling her. "What is it?" she whispered. She touched his arm and he flinched at her touch.

"The needles! The pins! Get them off me!" He was more articulate now, but that was hardly a blessing.

"Oh, my heart. There are no pins. "

He scraped at his arms with his hands, but these were still so heavily wrapped that it didn't do any damage.

_It took the better part of three hours to apply them all. And Jemmsy was very careful not to stick any vital organ or pierce a vein. Fortunately, this was not very hard. The diamond tattoos were placed in such a manner that this was easily avoided._

_As a caution, he gave the Winkie a second dose of cowry. "I'm leaving you now. You'll be laying there for awhile. It's my time for break and as you can imagine, this can be hungry work."_

_Hours of endless pain stretched on. His skin itched where it had been pierced. It burned. Especially, that on his face. The pointlessness of it, coupled with that boy's soft, inquiring tone began to wear at him. _

_He felt himself slipping and it scared the hell out of him. He tried to partition his mind and think of Elphaba instead of this room and those damn pins._

"It burns! It stings! Stop it, I can't take anymore. Stop," he almost sobbed.

She lay his head gently against her breast and slid her other arm around his shoulders. And she rocked him back and forth like he was a child. Her heart felt ready to break into. "It's okay. There are no pins."

He held his arms up in front of him, clearly in the grips of some unknown terror. "I already told you everything I know," he moaned. "Please stop. Kill me, please. _Please_." He withered a little more, though she wouldn't have thought it possible. "I told you everything," he pleaded to his invisible tormentors.

She couldn't say what he was seeing and she was afraid to know. But she held him there and tried to get him to wake up. To realize he was here and not back in that place. "Its okay," she whispered to him, hoping he would hear. "You told them and so what? You were bound to at some point, for all the things they put you through. I forgive you and I love you. _Please come back to me_."


	4. Chapter 4

"Help me, Sister Halfrida," she said. And she ducked under Fiyero's they maneuvered him to a pushing chair. "We are going out today, my love. To the bathhouses. I think you will feel much better then," she whispered in his ear.

Sister Halfrida sighed in dismay. Why did Sister Aelphaba delude herself so? They all knew the poor man had gone mad from his ordeal.

She was, in fact, aware of the whispers among the other maunts. Not that she cared anyway, if Fiyero had lost his mind from all that horrors, than so be it.

She covered him with a thick woolen cape and hood, pulling a hood down low over his face. It was chill out and there was still the chance that the firelungmay relapse, so she added a scarf, wrapping it around the bottom of his face.

She donned a thin veil, for it was not unusual for a mauntto do so. She spoke to him the little she had learned of theirold friends. He remained silent, showing no sign that he heard her or that he was even aware of what was going on around him. She sighed to herself and kept quiet the rest of the way.

Inside the bathhouse it was warm and steamy, a welcome change from the biting cold. "So kind of you to extend your charity to the infirm," she told the hostess.

A man came to help strip Fiyero and move him into the tub. It was for that reason that Elphaba did not shed the heavy garb until they were alone secure in the private room. She slipped a pair of arm length leather gloves on to protect herself. She turned on the tap and let the hot water rise to his neck.

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. She began unwrapping the bandages around his eyes. She hadn't seen it before and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

The eyelids had sunken in slightly and there was a mass of scar tissue around them. She stifled the urge to touch them for fear they may still be tender, she was unsure of how recently it had been done.

"Oh Fiyero..." There was a tiny change in expression at the sound of his name. Are you here, she asked, softly. But what ever it was was over now. She sighed and wondered if maybe she had imagined it.

She sponged the water into his hair, and then worked it up into a lather. She spoke in soft tones on what little information she had of their small circle. She sang quietly, a hymn from her childhood, though she didnt believe the words. She put his hands to her face, kissed his forehead. All this she did hoping to bring him around. To bring him back.

Water. He was, at first, only dimly aware of it. It teased at his consciousness. The voice, it was the same one he had heard before. It pulled at something vaguely in his memory. But before he could gain purchase the voice of Jemmsy cajoled, And how does that make you feel? His body stiffened. His fingers brushed metal.

It was the tank again, he realized with a growing sense of alarm. Inside they had shoved him and locked him inside again and again for hours and sometimes days. There was no sound, there was no light. Just an endless stretch of nothingness. And what was worse, they had saturated the water with salt, so if he had tried to drown himself, it would prove impossible.

He panicked. "No! Let me out!" Why was this even happening? He had already confessed everything to them, even of things that he had not done.

Fiyero's shrieks startled her. She dropped her sponge. He tried to stand up, she tried to stop him, but there was little she could do without getting wet. Two of the men rushed in at the sound of shouting. They looked like a couple of brutes, she noted with a sinking feeling.

They seized him by the arms, roughly. "Don't hurt him," she cried. "Can't you see hes been hurt enough?"

She needn't really concern herself with him. The two men yanked him out of the tub and he fought back. One of them lost his grip and slipped on the wet floor. His head hit the metal edge with a clang. Dazed he touched the spot and his fingers came away bloody.

Later on, back at the mauntery, Elphaba faced the inevitable.

"What were you thinking?" The superior maunt cried.

"I thought that a trip out would be good for him."

"The man is clearly deranged. There is a reason why we keep them here."

"I know."

"A man nearly died, Sister Aelphaba."

"It is not his fault. He was frightened. He thought they were attacking him. He cannot see to know the difference."

"It is more than that and you know it. He is mad. Yes, I know his is a tragedy and also, that you harbor some kind of affection for the poor soul but facts are facts."

"I know. It is my fault. I will take him away from here."

But the Superior Maunt was aghast at the notion. "A man like that should not be in society! For his safety as well as that of other people."

"Then I will hide him away from the world. I know a place. It is quiet and he could recover or perhaps find peace. We will not be bothered there."

"I can't agree to it."

"No, you don't have to but I am going and I am taking him with me." Elphaba left without waiting for a response.

They had him bound to the bed, for obvious reasons. But it was horrifying to see. And probably horrifying to be in.

Her suspicion of this was realized as she moved closer. He tugged at the leather strappings around his wrists and whimpered and begged in a most pathetic way. In his mind, he couldn't escape the torment of that place.

She sighed and resigned herself to the fact. She took his hands in hers and gently unbound his wrists. The skin had chaffed a little there. She lifted them, kissed them both. Rubbed her own hands over them and looked at his face. Nothing, no sign of recognition. She gave a little laugh and smiled a sad little smile. She kissed his forehead. "Its okay. I still love you and you are still beautiful."

* * *

_Notes: Don't worry guys, he's not really crazy. He's just regressed a bit, and is struggling with the psychological trauma of his captivity. PTSD does not always occur immediatly following a tragic event, it can be delayed by years even. Eventually he will be alright, but it won't be easily come by for him or Elphaba._


	5. Chapter 5

All those years in the underground may have come to ruin, but they still had benefits.

There was an old lopsided shanty some five miles outside of the city. She took what she could with them and made the trip.

She lingered in the doorway for a long moment. "This is home now, my heart. I hope you like it."

It was servicable enough: a single bed, a table. Enough to survive off of. She lit a candle to stave off the coming dark and began unloading their belongings from the back of his chair. The noise apparently drew his attention. He turned his head slightly in her direction and seemed to be listening. She held her breath in anticipation. "Fiyero?" she whispered quietly. But that was all there was to it. After several minutes she gave up and sighed her disapointment.

She ignored him for awhile and sat herself at the table. She stared blankly into the tiny flame. "This will be a good place. Its out of the way. No one will bother us, unless we want them to," she said, with a gentle laugh.

_He was taken outside into the middle of a yard early one morning, and onto a platform with pillars on all four ends. Another prisoner, this one Gillikinese, was on the other end. Gale Forcers moved to chain them both by the wrists to opposite ends of the platform. But not the feet, something Fiyero found odd. A metal cap was brought out from the barracks along with a cauldron of boiling pitch._

_Fiyero watched with a growing dread as the cap was filled with the pitch as the soldiers converged on the two prisoners. Fiyero was pushed roughly down and saw the gleam of sunlight on metal. He felt a momentary upsurge of fear but he stifled it at once. And confusion replaced it. His hair was pulled on but not hard. He felt the blade slide across his scalp. They were shaving him? He tried to comprehend the point of this._

_It was quick work and the soldiers dispersed. The cap was placed on t__op of the other man's skull and strapped in place. This was no easy fe__at giving his thrashing. Fiyero closed his eyes and tried not to be s__ick. But there was nothing he could do to drown out the screams or ig__nore the sickening stench of burning flesh._

_It was less than ten mi__nutes before the man expired but seemed much longer to Fiyero. I am n__ext, he thought. His mind scrambled to make peace with Lurline._

_But __the soldiers did something inexplicable. They chained him and the de__ad man together at the center of the platform and left them like that._

_Fiyero quickly came to the conclusion that they had only wante__d him to think he was about to be executed. Possibly to break his resolve. But why chain him to the __dead man? He soon figured that one out too._

_It was now at the heigh__t of summer and nature quickly got to work on the corpse. And what's m__ore Fiyero was denied water and only given bread which only added to __his thirst._

_The siren call of madness appealled to him yet again. He struggled against it, though it would have been so easy..._

Fiyero murmured softly. Was he dreaming? she wondered. "Just cut him down. Take him away. He doesn't deserve this," he pleaded quietly but empathetically to someone unseen.

_Oh Yero my hero, my heart, what I wouldn't do to break into that place you are trapped in_. She touched the side of his face. He jumped as usual, and looked about ready to bolt.

She filled a cup with water and put it to his lips. He shook slightly at her touch, but then raised his hands part way to it. He paused as if fearful, hesitant. Then very slowly he took it from her. He drank a little, still cautious and unsure. "Thank you," he said softly.

Her reaction was one of shock. She hardly knew what to think. Was this progress? He freed one hand and reached around in a searching manner. She took his hand gently and put it to her face.

After a few minutes he said, "Elphaba?"

"Yes, my love, its me."

He snatched his hand away as if burnt. "I hate you," he said coldly, contemptously.

She dropped her hands, a little taken aback. She was quiet for a few minutes but then told him, "Yes, I thought that you might." She stood up and went across the room, busying herself so as not to come apart.


	6. Chapter 6

"_For a moment, just try and understand what an inconvenience this is for me," Jemmsy said to him._

_Fiyero could hardly believe it. An inconvenience for him?_

_"You are just so selfish. It really tries my patience, and after I've been so kind to you..."_

_He shook his head, bewildered and disbelieving. Was Jemmsy serious? He closed his eyes and wondered what fresh hell was in store for him today._

_Jemmsy stepped back and gave him an appraising look. "I have an idea."_

_Fiyero sighed inwardly and tried not to think about it. Despite his best efforts, this was wearing him down. After all, he realized, it had been nearly four years._

"I hate you," he had told her. The cold malice in his voice was unmistakable. It wasn't as if she hadn't anticipated this but that didn't take away the bitter sting of it.

The truth of it was she would take his anger, his hatred, she deserved it even, but this mute vacancy was unbearable. It was as if an internal switch had been flipped and he lapsed back into unresponsiveness.

She wondered, and not for the first time, if this was something she could truly handle. A body could be healed, but a mind? She was terrified for him.

And how, she wondered, did he feel? On some level, he had to be aware of his situation? He had seemed clear enough when he had spoken to her the night good did his freedom do him if he couldn't escape this private hell?

His thought shifted and for a change he dreamt of something pleasant. Well, at least something less troubling...

_It was early one Septet morning and Boq was dozing by the Suicide Canal. Elphaba was there as well, though for all her input, she might not have been. She was deeply absorbed in a book on legal theory or the like. A sprawling tree, of a kind that Fiyero had yet to learn the name of, gave them shade. He watched from a nearby stairwell, trying and failing to remain inconspicuous. The more he tried to divert it the more he drew attention to himself. _

_Calls of 'Look! Its a Winkie!,' had become commonplace. Although, at first, he hadn't realized he was the one they were talking about and had looked around, curious, to see what the fuss was about. _

_He wasn't sure about approaching them. Would that be too pretentious? Presumptuous? His mind wandered for the right word; he didn't want to say something offensive or absurd. He was sure that fitting in would including speaking the right way. He lobbied with the idea of becoming friends with them but how? He knew a guy, Shem Ottokos, a student of languages and customs, from the Scrow tribe, but he didn't seem too concerned with making friends._

_Somehow, he managed the nerve to go over there. He sat in the grass between the two of them and said nothing. _

_The other two gave him little notice and that actually relieved him a lot. "Friends," he said softly. "Friends..."_

_Boq gave him that look, the one that usually meant he had said something inappropriate. He bit the inside of his lip, nervously. This was not going well. Maybe it was best if he kept quiet?_

_But just then Boq spoke up asking him about his opinion of the play the Wunderkammen._

_Fiyero actually hadn't seen it but had read about it, and was glad to be involved in a conversation so soon. _

_Before he could comment, Elphaba cut in, "Ugh, the mythical ocean, what nonsense. That's alm__ost as ridiculous as the idea that the border deserts poison."_

_"They are not," Fiyero asked surprised._

_"No," she said, giving him an odd lo__ok._

_He flushed with embarrassment and looked down. _

_Boq shrugged. "A __lot of people don't know that," he said in a placating manner. He __glanced back up at Fiyero and asked, "The play?"_

_"It is a dazzling display full of uniqueness and the diversity of life," Fiyero __recited. Boq looked confused. Fiyero frowned. Had he gotten it wrong? __Left something out?_

_"That sounds scripted," Elphaba said. She __ribbed Boq. "Hey, you should take lessons from him on how to speak to Galinda."_

_"Its Glinda now," Boq hissed at her. "And it's not like I really care. Anymore."_

_She rolled her eyes and yawne__d. "But really Yero, can I call you that, it sounds like you just read a__ review about it and memorized the whole thing word for word." She p__aused and pursed her lips. "Tell me that's not what happened."_

_"I have studied __Gillikinese language and their culture including the arts..." __His voice trail__ed off at Elphaba's expression. _

_Stop it! You re embarrassing him, Boq be__rated her._

_"No, he embarrassed himself," she pointed out._

_"I have said something wrong." Fiyero suddenly wanted to sink into the ground, but for lack of that, he covered his eyes with one hand._

_She ignored them both and __said, "So...you don't know anything...about anything?" Boq made an irrated noise but she ignored him still. _

_"I've studied f__or three years," he protested, but it was almost a plea. He tried to take offense, but was really too embarrassed to manage._

_She shook her head in complete disbelief. "Yeah, but __that's not the same thing..."_

He murmured in his sleep, "At least I figured it out. In the end..."

Elphaba looked over at him. "What's that?"

"The pretense." And he sighed drowsily. "How to look like I know what I'm doing."

She nodded. "And you did it better than most."

The dream changed again. A shift of light into darkness inescapable. He shivered as it took hold, moaning softly against the rising terror.

And she did what she could, holding his hand, speaking softly, trying to assert that wherever he was that he wasn't alone there. His brow was cold with sweat, and the moisture burned her hand but she wiped it anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

_A seamstress_, the smallest scrape of him mused; the bit that remained perfectly clearheaded. _Sewing me back together. _Was he speaking aloud? He couldn't be sure. There was so much to sift through, like a mountain of sand. Or broken glass for him to cut himself upon, yes, that was more to the point. And her soothing presence...

He sighed longingly. He _could _assert himself, try to banish the fragments. But they would still and his impatience would only cause more discord. A permanent scarring. True, he had partitioned his mind again and again, attempting to maintain sanity; once a piece became too damaged. And he was sorry that she was left to deal with this. A pile of broken glass, he thought again. Her hands were no doubt bleeding by now.

_But it had been her fault after all. _

He sighed again. He tried to keep those thoughts at bay, but they were so oppressing; the reverberating influence of his detainment.

(_Elphaba POV_)

There was a knock at the door, causing her to start. This was unexpected to say the least, and frightening. For all she knew it was the Gale Force come to haul Fiyero off again, and her as well for harboring him. But she reasoned, after a moment, the Gale Force probably wouldn't be so hesitant about it.

She threw caution to the wind, and flung the door open. It was that damnable boy, the one from the Mauntery that was always clinging to her skirts like some little monkey. "Well, what do you want and how the hell did you find me," she snarled at him.

He shrugged and made to come in. She tried to block his way but he was still small enough to duck past her. She cursed him violently but allowed it anyway. A boy child could be made useful, but would this one be? She whirled away from him, and after an effort managed not to slam the door, lest she disturb Fiyero further. She ignored the boy and retreated back to the other room.

He was colder still, she noted, feeling his forehead, his hands. _It couldn't be good_, she worried. She went to the fire and poked at the ash with one of the irons. She added a fresh log and waited for it to take. She paced back and forth in anticipation. Maybe the log was too damp and would just steam up the room? Or maybe it was the room? She tucked a second blanket around him. She rubbed his arms, hoping to create enough friction and warm him that way. Finally the fire rose up and was crackling merrily. She slid in beside him and lent him her warmth.

_(Fiyero POV)_

_Whats worse Fiyero? Suppressing the idea of personhood or suppressing, through torture and __incarceration and starvation, real living persons?_ her voice called across the years. It recalled not a memory of these things, though he had learned all too well about them, but the memory of terror. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe. He reached out for her, searching, searching... _Who was she?_ He didn't exactly remember, but hell, he didn't know who he was most the time anymore.

(_Elphaba_)

He reached for her, as his own body stiffened and he cried out from some nameless panic. She helped him, what she could. He clutched at her waist, one arm snaking around her middle as she pushed herself into a sitting position. She helped him, guiding and coaxing, laying his head in her lap. She rubbed her hands between his shoulder blades, until the fit passed and he finally was able to relax.

The little boy stood in the doorway, watching with wide eyes. She glared at him, and waved her hands at him, not to invite but to send him away. He was slow in obeying but eventually obliged her.

(_Fiyero_)

After awhile, he fell back into the comfort of an older memory. He was able to find a measure of solace in these memories. They provided a senseof peace, however brief. So naturally he embraced them.

_"Well, wha__t do you think," Elphaba could be heard to say. _

_J__ust as the week befor__e it was her and Boq and Fiyero out lying in the shade by Suicide Can__al. Again, Fiyero was in the middle, but now was stretched out with e__yes closed, listening to the wind and the sound of their voices. _

_Boq __apparently made a comment but it was too quiet to be heard. Elphaba s__coffed at it though, "Oh please! Nobody is that naive. Its a sham." _

_"You don't know that," Boq said mildly._

_"Hah!"_

_"Going for that open spo__t for cynic of the year, I see," Boq said in the same tone. _

_"Oh you __foul little monkey!" Both were silent for a few minutes and then Elpha__ba said, "It would be endearing if it weren't so annoying," but her tone_  
_was soft._

The strange thing was that he watched these as if they were happening to someone else. He remembered them, almost. It seemed that so much had happened that he was no longer the dark-skinned boy capable of such serenity. Was he that boy? Had he ever been? For a moment he was suddenly so sure of it, but it was fleeting.

_Another memory, altogether vague but at the same time more real then this one. The sound of Crope's voice. Crope, Crope...who was that? And his own, arguing with the other. _

_"It is you, Fiyero. I know I'm not mistaken."_

_"You're wrong. They killed Fiyero. He's dead. This is just what's left."_

_The two memories were superimposed upon each other, both existing but yet not._

His hands shook and he bit his imagined knuckles, at once overcome with a hideous frustration. Everything was real, but everything was fake and he couldn't be sure of any of it. _Is this what being mad feels like?_


	8. Chapter 8

_She was in a bad mood, but then what else was new? He watched her stalk from one end of the room to the other and back again. He tried not to show his amusement at this, lest she turned her anger on him. He waited patiently, not sure what this was about yet. _

"_Just for once I would have liked some acknowledgement. Some small scrap of affection from him."_

"_That's understandable", he said mildly. _

_She gave him a scathing look. "You don't even know what I'm talking about," she hissed.  
This was true, he decided so he waited some more._

"_Nessa was always the broken wheel. Poor little helpless Nessarose. Look how beautiful she is despite her deformity..."_

_Ah, so that is what this about. Thank Lurline, I have done nothing wrong. And now it was to hide his relief. _

_She went on in this thread for awhile and the subject of the shoes came up. _

_Always the shoes. Ever the source of her disaffection. "But Fae, you do not need those shoes."_

_She rounded on him, in a perfect fury. "Why not? Do I not deserve pretty things? Is that what you are telling me?"_

_He wondered if he should keep his mouth shut but replied anyway, "But pretty things are only that way on the surface. Beneath that it is only empty and false."_

_She nodded and for a moment he thought he had won. "And you, my dear, are just about as pretty as they come. Does that make you empty and false?" _

_Leave it to Elphaba to turn a compliment into an insult._

_She snatched up a knot of scarves and shook them at him. "I don't need these; I should just throw them in the fire." But she didn't. She threw them at him instead. "I don't need pretty things, says you. Well I say you're right, I don't. And I certainly don't need you!"_

_It was nearly a week before he came back._

"_Why are you here," she asked sotto voce. _

"_If you would like me to go..."_

"_No! I mean, please stay. Would you?"_

_He hesitated, his hand on the door, for a second longer, before deciding to stay. "I don't want to be arguing with you today, Fae. It's not on."_

"_No, I agree. It is not. Will you sit down," she said, still quiet, still subdued. _

_He didn't like it. It wasn't her. But he sat and waited and watched._

_She busied herself, making him tea and bringing a loaf of bread and cheese. She went to cut it for him but his hand shot out to stop her._

"_I was wrong," both said at the same time, and thus wore similar expressions of surprise. _

_But she plowed ahead as she was wont to do. And he let her. " was being silly. I don't know why. The shoes, I mean, it was so long ago. I shouldn't be so bitter. They are just shoes, after all. Nessarose deserves them."But he could see that she wasn't convincing herself._

_He leaned down and began unlacing his boots. She gave him a quizzical look. He slipped them off and held them up. "They do not sparkle, and they don't shine but they are well made and sensible and more to your style than a pair of glitter slippers."_

"_Oh Fiyero, you sentimental fool... I can't wear these. They are too big for my feet." But she held onto them anyway._

_The day was growing dim and turning to shadow. But he was not finished. "Still, I think that you do need the __pretty things__ so that you can feel pretty. But I could be wrong", he said cautiously. _

_She was giving him an odd look. It was wary and curious and hopeful and needy all at once. He took a small box from his pocket and held it out to her._

_Why did she look frightened? She took it with hands that were shaking. "I-I..." She couldn't seem to open it, so he did it for her. _

"_Moonstones," he explained, lifting the necklace from its cradle and holding it up to a stubborn shaft of light. The small gems were a milky white with a faint blue touch and they sparkled as prettily as any diamond. _

_She took it from him and returned it to the box which she set aside. "You should take it back."_

"_I have no intention of doing so."_

_But she persisted. "It does not suit me. I have no use for frivolity."  
That stung. But he would not be put off. He picked up the box and took it back out again._

"_Don't," she protested in a whisper. But she pulled her hair to the side anyway. She was shaking still, he realized. She sniffled and her eyes glittered with the idea of tears. But she did not cry. "You should go," she whispered but he understood that she was really begging him to stay. He fixed the clasp and backed up enough to see. She fingered at one of the jewels, looking down at them and the fine silver chain. "You should go," she repeated._

"_I'm not leaving," he told her._

_She pulled away and went into the other room. He wondered if he should follow but decided to give her space._

_A long time passed and with it the remaining flecks of light. _

_Finally, she cried from her hiding place, "Why are you here?"_

_His only answer was to take out a small bottle of oil and uncork it. The faint scent of lavender and chamomile gently wafted from the open end, the better to calm her with. He stood up and went after her._

"Is this my life flashing before my eyes," the apparition, the almost-Fiyero, asked himself. "Is this what they mean when they say that?" He sighed. "And does that mean that after everything, in spite of it, that I am going to die? Or maybe stay locked in this confusion and lose myself completely? The more I try to understand these things the less I know. I remember this, being there, I think… Lurlina, save me! Why have you bound me to this? I've done nothing wrong! Why? Why? Why?"

After that, he was silent for a long time.


	9. Chapter 9

_"But could you not be mended?" asked the girl. _

_"Oh yes; but one is never so pretty after being mended, you know," replied the Princess. _- The Wonderful Wizard of Oz

"There is a nice little grove of frost apples on the hilltop. I was thinking we could go up there today," Elphie said.

Her patient replied in a voice soft with malice, "I think you could go to hell!"

But she just took it all in stride, "Yes, I think I would prefer some place warmer..."

Liir wasn't sure what to make of all this. Sister Elphie had been away from the mauntery for several days and then out of the blue the Superior Maunt had noticed him. She conscripted Sister Maxine to find her and bring him to her.

And so here he was. With Sister Elphie and this madman, who cursed her existence what little he was aware of it. "He's been badly hurt. He's in terrible pain," she told Liir. "I'm trying to mend him." And then she gave him a look that said the matter was over. Liir had no choice to obey.

He found the whole thing scary. The man would sometimes wake up, at any hour, day or night, and start screaming or sobbing for no reason Liir could see or understand. Sometimes he would speak in a low voice. Sometimes Elphie would answer him and sometimes she would just listen. He would snap out of it and go on a binge where he would scream at her and Liir would learn some new words in the exchange. Sometimes he would throw things or swing at her. But with his eyes the way they were this wasn't very productive. She would just grab hold of his wrists. And he would start to cry and she would just put his head to her shoulder and hold it there until he calmed down or left again.

A day or so ago, in aiming for her, he had actually hit the wall with his fist. And then kept doing it until she was able to pull him away. He cried as usual as she cleaned his hands. Even Liir could see the water hurt her but she did it anyway.

But most of the time he would just sit there or lay there where Elphie had set him and look blank, staring at nothing with those weird eyes of his. Liir couldn't imagine what color they were or had been. Now they were glazed over into a milky grayish blue. Liir had never seen eyes like that.

He was a very confused and frightened little boy.

He caught himself staring, or rather Elphie caught him staring. She swung that broom of hers at him, thwacking him upside the head. He gasped at the shock of it and scrambled away. He hadn't seen her coming. He ran out the door and was glad to see she didn't follow. He threw himself down underneath a spiderspine tree and went into a heavy sulk.

He thought of the way Elphie treated the man, like a fragile thing made of dainty china, and how she would move him from here to there while he, aside from the rare outburst, seemed incapable of moving himself. A china doll all tied up in strings, he thought. He imagined himself moving the mans arms and legs around into funny positions. But then he imagined what Elphie would do if she saw him doing it.

And the unfairness of it all! That the man should scream curses at her and yet be treated with respect and patience when Liir, barely four years, an old four but still, should get a broom upside the head for being curious.

_He's been badly hurt_, Elphie said. That was the part that Liir really didn't understand. At least he didn't see where the man was hurt. Maybe it had something to do with being mad.

He suddenly realized a man was coming up the path. He froze up for a moment not sure what to do. Elphie would be furious if he didn't warn her. But then she would probably be furious if he did. He ran back inside house anyway.

"What," she hissed at seeing him again.

"There's a man coming," he announced, gasping for breath.

"What," she repeated. She went to the door and looked out. "Oh, it's just Crope," she said, visibly relaxing. But just for a second. "_Hell, _is there a sign saying This is where you can find Elphaba and Fiyero, fugitives at large? We'll have to move it seems, or the Wizard and his forces will be the next to come calling." She hitched up her skirts and went out to greet him.

"_Elphaba_," he cried, stunned. He even stopped walking.

"Yes, it's me. Glad you noticed. Yell a little louder, please. I don't think they heard you at the gates."

"Have you been here all this time?"

"Why are you here?"

He shrugged. "I found Fiyero and took him to the Mauntery. They told me one of the Sisters had brought him out to this place." He gave her an odd, appraising look. "_You_, a unionist maunt? I should be looking for the flying pigs it seems." He glanced up to the sky and she laughed a little.

"Yes he's here...well sort of anyway."

He nodded, looking solemn. "I've heard it wasn't going well."

"Come in," she said, turning away and leading him inside. "There you go. There's our old friend Fiyero," she said, flinging her hand in the general direction. There was a strange tone to her voice, and she was making an effort not to look at either of them.

"How did this happen, I wonder," Crope said after a while had passed.

"Oh you know, our Wizard. The wonderful things he does..."


	10. Chapter 10

_Where do I take this pain of mine/I run but it stays right by my side..._

_A knife set on the edge of what passed as a window sill. Fiyero stared at it for a moment, his anger mounting._

"Oh you poor bastard," the other said sadly. "This is where it all went to hell."

_Fiyero took the knife down and held it in his shaking hands. "Whats this for?" he yelled into the darkness. "Want me to kill myself? You think I'm so weak?"_

"They got to you and you don't even know. You're so far gone and - don't do it!" As if he could reason with himself.

_So tear me open and pour me out/There's things inside that scream and shout/And the pain still hates me, so hold me until it sleeps._

_"Damn you! I won't do it! I won't talk! And to hell with all of you!"_

"Why would you do this to yourself? To us? Oh Sweet Lurline, don't..."

_Fiyero laughed and he cried and he cut. He laughed through clenched teeth as the blood seeped through them. He balled his fists and put them to his eyes, sobbing now. _

_Just like the curse, just like the stray/You feed it once and now it stays/Now it stays..._

_He was losing his mind slowly but surely and he knew it. After all this time, they had worn him down. He threw the knife away. "Elphie, where are you? Why didn't you come find me? Why did you leave me here?"_

_So tear me open but beware: there's things inside without a care/And the dirt still stains me so wash me until I'm clean_

_Jemmsy waited in keen anticipation. With what he had learned over the past few years he wasn't surprised when they brought the Winkie back_  
_still alive. Disappointed, but not surprised. Although he found it quite alarming the way the Winkie was grinning up at him, with caked blood in the corners of his mouth, staining his chin. His grew wider, now he was displaying his teeth. _

_Comprehension slowly dawned on Jemmsy. He shook with rage and barked an order to the burly guards. They snapped to attention at once and seized the prisoner, who's mocking grin grew even more. The bastard had cut out his own tongue out of spite._

_It grips you so hold me/It stains you so hold me/It hates you so hold me/It holds you so hold me until it sleeps..._

_And after Jemmsy had taken pity on him, placing the knife in his cell. True, he had also put it there because he had grown bored of the uncooperative prisoner, but that was beside the point! He really wanted to end the man's suffering._

_And only to have his charity thrown back in his face!_

_Jemmsy was fairly seething by now. One of the goons grabbed a fistfull of the Winkie's hair and snatched his head back. The action resulted in a flash of brilliance on Jemmsy's part. Just as he had done so many times before he fished one of the irons from the firegrate. He was son incensed that he didn't notice it was burning into his hand. He waved the iron back and forth, it's tip glowing red._

___So tell me why you've chosen me/Don't want your grip, don't want your greed/Don't want it_

_The Winkie watched, mesmerized. He seemed to regain a bit of his sense, if only to catch on. "No," he gasped. The word was easy enough to understand, despite everything. _

_But Jemmsy ran with the circumstances. "Sorry, I can't understand you. I have a job to do," he kept his voice crisp, business-like. _

__

_I'll tear me open make you gone/No more can you hurt anyone/And the fear still shakes me/So hold me, until it sleeps_

"No!" The Winkie bellowed, throwing himself around like a wild fought so fiercely that his minders were knocked off balance. Grappling for purchase, they pushed him against the wall. "Stop!"

Jemmsy affected surprise. "Oh, so you can talk? Fancy that. Too late though." He shrugged and got back to it. As the others pinned him in place, Jemmsy held the iron against his left eye. He howled. He shrieked and struggled against his minders.

Bacon, Jemmsy thought. He almost giggled. With the way it popped and sizzled, it sounded just like bacon in a hot skillet. He moved the iron to the right. He barely put it in place when the Winkie jerked his head away. Jemmsy sighed. He lost heart all at once. He dropped the iron and the guards dropped the prisoner on the ground.

_It grips you so hold me/It stains you so hold me/It hates you so hold me/It holds you, holds you, holds you until it sleeps_

_He lay there moaning and sobbing, holding his hands to his face. _

_In times of extreme distress or pain a person can be made to believe almost anything. So Jemmsy jumped at the chance. "You see now? Do you understand?"_

_The Winkie bawled into his fists, crawling along the floor like a dog. Jemmsy felt a little sorry that he had been so degraded, but what can one do? He sat down and dragged the Winkie towards him. "Funny how I should be forced to blind you to get you to see how wrong you were."_

_"I-I..."_

_"You were wrong. I know you know. Opposing the Wizard...what were you thinking?" He kept his voice soft, low, like a gentle father chiding a wayward child. "You know what, though? It doesn't matter, now that I've cured you." He paused for effect. This had worked before, why shouldn't it work now? "You do know that I've been trying to help you? That this was all for your benefit, right? Tell me you understand."_

_The Winkie nodded, still weeping. He reached upwards and grabbed Jemmsy's hand. _

_Jemmsy grinned, extremely pleased with himself. Worked every time. every single time. The prisoner seeking comfort from him as if he hadn't been the one inflicting pain. That his 'patients' should come almost to love him._

_So tear me open but beware/There's things inside without a care/And the dirt still stains me/So wash me 'till I'm clean_

_"I have something for you," he whispered in the prisoner's ear. He waved to an unseen person beyond the door. They came at once, bearing a small tray with another needle and vial. "Tincture of poppy seed. It will help you sleep._

_"Thank you," the Winkie whispered._

_Jemmsy frowned. That wouldn't exactly do anymore. "You know, after all this time we've been together..." As if they were lovers. "I've never even asked you for your name."_

_The prisoner seemed to implode even more. "I have no name," he said in a very small voice._

_Jemmsy shrugged, not sure what that meant. "Suit yourself." He slid the needle into the crook of the man's elbow and slowly emptied it. "And now that you've been rehabilitated you'll need your rest. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life." He leaned down and kissed the prisoner's forehead and left him sleeping there._

_I'll tear me open make you gone/No longer will you hurt anyone/And the hate still shames me/So hold me until it sleeps_


	11. Chapter 11

_Sleep and dream. Over and over. This is what my days are made of. So this is where I live now, in the country of dreams_.-Last Night I Sang to the Monster

* * *

Bits and pieces of memory all rambled up together and overlapping. He could stayhere, going over these again and again and leave everything else to the others. What was it to him anyway?

_(Let me stay, where the wind will whisper to me. Where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story...)_

_"You may not have noticed but I was painfully shy."_

_"No!" Elphaba teased. _

_He arched an eyebrow and propped himself up on one elbow to study her form._

_"A young tribal boy out in the world for the real world for the first time. How will he survive in high society? If you were a girl it would make for great melodrama," she told him._

_He rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation and slid one finger along her hip, across her stomach and up her ribcage._

_She writhed away making a little face. "That tickles," she said. _

_"Really? You probably shouldn't have told me that."_

_She grabbed his hands and glared up at him. "I will kill you."_

_He laughed and kissed her hands where she held him._

_Shift (In my field of paper flowers and candy clouds of lullaby.__I lie inside myself for hours and watch my purple sky fly over me.)_

_Boq yawned aloud. Shenshen wrinkled her nose at him. "Shrubbery is just so boring," he said, drawing out the last word and casting his book aside._

_"Oh Master Boq, there is no need for theatrics," Nessarose said, sounding haughty. She nodded to Nanny to adjust her shawl._

_Glinda fluffed her curls and turned her head this way and that, admiring her reflection in the mirror she held. She suddenly turned beet red and put a hand to her mouth. She looked over at Tibbet sitting beside her. He began laughing and didn't stop until there were tears in his eyes. "That's disgusting," she said now going over pale. A pause. "Really? With a pair of fiddlesticks?"_

_He grinned and nodded._

_She turned red again. "Oh you-you… That is sick." A few more seconds passed. "How exactly does that work? "_

_But he never got to say because just then Avaric came with a bottle of whiskey. All the way from Kvon Altar, he boasted. Fiyero doubted that very much. The little he knew of those people didn't indicate that they made whiskey. But he didn't say anything. _

_Pfanee was snoring in a very unladylike fashion, causing Crope to giggle behind his hands. Elphaba generally gave them all the cold shoulder but Fiyero was determined to take everything in. He drank it up, watching and learning. _

_Avaric poured the liquor directly into Shenshen's open mouth. She blushed and giggled and hiccupped. There were snickers all around the circle._

_Glinda tossed her hair and dabbed perfume on her neck. She held the mirror at arms length and appeared to be at last satisfied with what she saw. She put it down primly and gave a little sigh. _

_Pfanee suddenly shrieked. Avaric jerked, spilling the liquor down Shenshen's blouse. Pfanee sat up and threw something at Crope, who ducked away giggling. _

_Nessarose rolled and fluttered her eyes in such a way that made Fiyero fear she would pass out. But she just said, "Oh Elphaba, why must you expose me to this depravity?"_

_"Of course, it is my fault," Elphaba grumbled._

_Nanny gave Elphaba a reproving look and helped Nessarose to her feet, who was saying, "I must go and pray now."_

_(Don't say I'm out of touch with this rampant chaos - your reality. I know well what lies beyond my sleeping refuge; the nightmare I built my own world to escape)_

"But I don't understand. I spoke to him when I took him to the chapel. He seemed a little confused but it was nothing like this." Crope sat down at the table and looked over at her expectantly.

"He got sick from another patient and never quite came back to himself. I think he just gave up."

"He shows signs of torture over a long period. Thats another thing...Can you really imagine him doing something to end up in this state? Let alone being imprisoned? I mean, it's Fiyero."

"He was innocent. Is." Crope gave her a questioning look. She seemed to struggle with words. "When I left Glinda here ten years ago I went underground and fell in with a...with an organization. We fought fire with fire. Well, Fiyero showed up in Emerald City and he thought he was clever at being the first to find me. And I just couldn't help myself. And now, well he's paid the price for my sins and failure with his blood and sanity." She waited, with some bitterness, for the recriminations to begin.

But Crope offered none. "So he has gone mad?"

She nodded and looked away.

"You were lovers?"

"Yes. Come hell or high water, I will take care of him. Whether he gets better or not."

"That's a lot to put on yourself."

She shook her head. "It's my fault. I owe it to him."

_(Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming, cannot cease for the fear of silent nights. Oh, how I long for the deep sleep dreaming; The goddess of imaginary light.)_

"I haven't done anything. Let me out," Fiyero mumbled in his sleep.

Elphaba opened her eyes and sighed. Sleep was so hard to come by as of late. But he might need her.

"I'm innocent. Let me out." He was prone to sleepwalking now so she watched and waited. "Fae, why are you taking so long?"

Her heart skipped a beat. "I didn't know," she whispered.

"Let me out. Let me out," he said again. He started to sit up.

Elphaba sat up too. She grabbed his wrist, holding him there and said, "C'mon, my heart, wake up. Don't go wandering tonight."

"I've done nothing wrong. I'm an innocent man," he persisted.

"Fiyero, its time to wake up."

_(If you need to leave the world you live in, l__ay your head down and stay a while. __Though you may not remember dreaming, s__omething waits for you to breathe again.)_  
_Fiyero, its time to wake up._

Her words were both a wake-up call and a scolding. He sighed to himself and protested softly. "I like it better here. Out there, everything's a mess."

She stretched out her arms and pulled him tighter to her. "I know. But the rest of us have to live here, so you might as well."

He dropped his head down against her chest and fell silent for awhile. Finally, he said, "Fae?"

She hesitated, remembering the last time. "Yes," she said cautiously.

"I wasn't sure." He sighed again. "I'm sorry but I had to go away for awhile."

She nodded. "I know. I've been waiting here for you. You can go away again, if you have to, but I'd like it best if you would stay."

"Nothings clear, Fae. I don't know who I'm supposed to be."

"You've forgotten," she said, and her heart sank a little. "That's okay. I-"

"No." And he laughed desperatly. "It's not even that simple. I remember but none it is real. I can't tell..."

"I don't understand."

He was quiet again, for awhile, trying to figure out how to tell her. "Neither do I," he finally said. "It's just not clear, Fae."

* * *

**Derealization/depersonalization as a result of psychological trauma. Catatonic state, and other dissiociative states. Just in case you guys are taking notes. This stuff _can_ and does actually happen.**


	12. Chapter 12

Tonight, she looked over at him, sleeping next to her. He was sleeping hard, this being one of those rare moments that rest was actually available to her, had her mind not been so full of questions. His lips were parted, moving in a rythmic pattern as he breathed in and out. She could see the whites of his eyes beneath their lids which had lifted slightly. She could watch him forever it, seemed, drowning in the details.

She read the signs of his abuse.

Ashen and wasted, his face hollowed, one cheekbone now slightly misshapen, broken under a heavy blow. She ran her fingers over it, feeling the concavity, the surrounding splintered bone. How did it come to be, she wondered. Did it happen that horrible night or sometime after?

A series of thin scars on his back and shoulders, the telltale signs of a flogging. Her anger smoldered at the thought of him being whipped like a common criminal. And his arms, which he so desperately held onto her with, once so strong, now atrophied from near starvation and ill-treatment.

Even the diamonds were pockmarked, every single one of them. She wondered what had been done to him to cause that.

And there was also the oil lamp he insisted be kept burning at night. A glimmer of hope, that his sight wasnt wholly lost, he could still discern light from darkness. But her fears eclipsed her hope. It smacked of sensory deprivation. No wonder he had come so close to losing his mind.

_But he was alive_, she realized as if for the first time. _Alive and back with her._ This was something she had hardly allowed herself to imagine. While it was terrible seeing him come to this at least he was safe now and there was only moving forward. In her mind he was a blank page. She would heal the brokenness inside, get him back to himself.

Gone was that terrible vacancy, the sense that he wasn't really there had lifted. Quiet, and withdrawn, yes, but responsive enough. Still, it was through this that he revealed his brokenness. He would often cling to her so tightly that breathing was difficult. And she gave in, resigning herself to many sleepless hours.

_Oh to make those men pay_. "They will," she said aloud. She turned her head to look at him again. "Believe me, they will," she told him in a low voice.

He shifted in his sleep, sliding an arm around her middle. He sighed softly, his breath steaming on her neck, not quite coming awake but asking, "Is it worth it?"

"Maybe not," she admitted. "But I am not above revenge."

* * *

The wind turned back into ice and snow piled in front of the door.

Crope had made himself at home and decided to stay at least until the weather broke again. Besides, he could make himself useful. Whatever her feelings of guilt, he didn't think this was a burden she needed to bear alone. And he had his own guilt regarding the matter.

Heavy drapes were hung over the windows throwing the room into deep shadow. Crope surmised that the purpose was threefold: to protect Fiyero's eyes from bright light, to keep out the cold, and to hide them.

She brought Fiyero coffee. "We have no cream or milk but there's plenty of honey," she told him.

"Milk," he repeated. "I remember, Malky, the cat...I used to take her milk for my coffee, you know, before...She hated me for it." He had this wierd sense that this was somehow important. But it _seemed_ trivial so he dismissed it as another result of his abiding confusion.

"I haven't seen Malky for ages," Elphaba told him. "_He_ is a cat and they either take care of themselves or they don't." She put the cup in his hands. But she didn't move and after a few minutes, possibly by some latent sixth sense, Fiyero took notice. He turned his head out of habit but ended up staring off to her right. "I thought you were dead. All that blood. I never imagined that..."

Fiyero nodded. "It wasn't just mine," he said, almost consolingly. "Still, there were five of them and one of me. By the time I realized what was happening I fought back. I actually think I hurt one of them pretty badly."

"_They got what they deserved_." She almost smiled at the notion but it was fleeting. "I would have never left you to that had I known."

"I thought you had forgotten me."

_"Never_. How could I? I thought you were gone. I thought they killed you."

Crope wondered if he should be watching this. He decided it wasn't exactly decent and turned his attention to the little boy, who was sitting in the corner playing with a wooden train. The boy's presence was a mystery in itself. He wanted to ask but Elphaba was too preoccupied at the moment.


	13. Chapter 13

The rain fell in fat, heavy droplets from a dreary gray sky. It froze on the ground creating a thin and slick sheen of ice. The wind picked up and swirled about the tiny cabin, wailing like a banshee.

Elphaba shivered and wrapped her coat tighter around herself as Crope came stomping in, carrying logs. He looked oddly pleased with himself,  
as if he had never chopped wood before and had really accomplished something. She gave him a grateful smile and then told him to shut the door, the cold was getting in. And Fiyero, still not strong enough, might catch a chill.

"I've never seen you like this," Crope said, dropping the wood by the fireplace. "I have never seen you care for someone so selflessly." He immediatly regretted saying it, fearing she would take offense. And he had nearly forgotten about Nessa, but that wasn't exactly the same.

But she just nodded solemnly. I surprise myself sometimes. She turned around suddenly and looked towards the bedroom door.

Fiyero stood there holding onto the frame, obviously having felt his way out. Crope was surprised, he hadn't heard anything but somehow she had. She wasted no time getting over there to him and taking him by the arm. "Sleepy," she teased, lightly. "You have slept half the day already." She led him to the table, sat him down as always. "I made tea. Let me pour you some."

But he grabbed her hand, keeping her there. "I have to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I wasn't strong enough, Fae."

"Oh don't..."

"I told them everything."

"I know you did. But there was nothing to tell."

"I betrayed you."

She sighed and for a moment, seemed a little defeated. "Okay," she said, softly. She put her hand on his arm, very briefly and then stood up. She moved away, not looking at him, knowing he would take her leaving the wrong way. But she was getting tired of this and questioning her resolve.

Trying to remain calm, she poured the steaming water into a cup. She could feel Crope watching her but she didn't much care. Valerian and bergamot, she added to it. Her hands shook and she nearly dropped it. She set it down and leaned over, holding her hands over her eyes. She stayed like that for a second before taking a deep breath. She carried it back over to him.

"Drink this," she said, putting his hands around it. "I know you just woke up, but you're looking pale. I'm taking you back to bed," she told him.

"Fae, I-"

"Do what I tell you now. You're upsetting our guest."

Crope frowned at her for implicating him, but she shot him a look that said he wasn't to argue.

After helping Fiyero back to the other room, and forcing him to drink, she turned the lamp down midway. She pulled the blankets up around his neck and hoped he wouldn't press the subject.

But he did. He pushed the blankets down and sat up. "Fae, I'm sorry."

"Stop, _stop_. Please. This isn't the time."

He persisted. "Forgive me, I never-"

"I can't, Fiyero. There's nothing to forgive. You've done nothing wrong."

"I have," he said softly.

"If anyone is blameless in this, it is you. Now, please, lay back down." She pushed on his chest, but he resisted. He began to cry again. She turned her head, closing her eyes and clenched her fists. _Damn them. _"Stop, stop please. I can't stand seeing you like this." She hoped that the herbs she had given him would start to work. She took several slow deep breaths until she was calmer. "Listen to me," she said. He was beginning to drowse, she saw. _Finally_. "I know it's hard for you to understand this, right now. But none of this is your fault. I don't care what they're having you believe. And what you're telling me doesn't matter. It _doesn't_. Anyone would have given in, and probably alot sooner."

She saw him start to protest again and cut him off by kissing the side of his mouth. He lapsed into a stunned silence for several minutes but then turned on his side and started to sob into the pillow. The sound of it was terrible and she had to leave the room.

When she came back into the main room, Crope watched her carefully, and with great trepidation. "Elphaba, listen to me," he began boldly. "You can not blame him for this."

Well, she was glad that he hadn't been eavesdropping but that would have to wait for later. "Blame him? Blame _him_? Of course I dont blame him. Do you honestly believe I don't see what's been done to him? That whatever information they got from him was pulled out of him like teeth? No, _no_, I understand and better than you. What did he say to them, for one? I was careful, I gave him no valuable secrets. So I wonder, what lies have they fed him? What have they confused him with? What could he tell them, really?" She paused for breath. "And where are these soldiers, can you tell me that? You found me so easily. And the boy as well. It is not that difficult. So where are they, I ask you? _Where_?"

_"You want them to come here_," he asked incredulous.

"Yes I do, because that would mean there was a reason for that. That it wasn't needless and pointless," she said wildly, gesturing to the bedroom. "They didn't want _information_. They could care less. They already had everything they needed to know. They wanted to degrade him, inflict suffering, break his spirit. And mine in the process."

"How-"

"It was no accident that he ended up in the mauntery, with me there. Even now, we are being manipulated. That damnable Wizard and his men. They want me to see what I've done, what I'm responsible for."

"Ah conspiracy theories..."

She sneered at him. "It was no accident," she insisted. But then her anger imploded. "What you told me, he said to you, was true. Fiyero died in that place. That's not him anymore. They've destroyed him." She put her head in her hands.

"Take him back to the Mauntery. It's better for him. You shouldn't be taking this on yourself. I mean, look at you. You worry about taking care of him, but when's the last time _you_ slept?"

"I'm not worried about that right now."

"Obviously not, but Elphaba, really, you look like the walking dead."

"I'm fine," she snapped at him. "And you can forget that. I'm not taking him back. This is my fault, this is my responsibility. And I'll be damned if I'm abandoning him. Not now, not as much as he needs me."

Crope wanted to say that she needed him more than he needed her, but he kept his mouth shut. There was no point in arguing, she seemed unable to listen.


	14. Chapter 14

Time stood still for them, at least in her mind. Days blended together in a seemingly endless train.

"I hate this," Fiyero said quietly, interrupting her reading, one evening.

She set the book down in her lap. "Talk to me," she pressed gently.

"This half life I am forced to live. I am not myself. I'm not much of anything anymore." He shook his head in frustration.

"You seem pretty much yourself, tonight. That's a good sign."

"Is it? The knowing and the not knowing? What good does it do me?"

"Isn't it better than the alternative?"

"And what alternative would that be? Oblivion?"

"Oh Fiyero, you know I don't indulge myself in such matters. And I am sure I don't know even if I did."

He smiled, but it was mean and quite unlike him. "No, I'm sure you don't."

"Pettiness does not suit you, I might point out."

"You might, but also I might not care."

She sighed wearily. "To what end do you hope to achieve by attacking me? It won't actually help you feel any better."

He gave her the same mean smile. "And you are the authority on this? Who was it that appointed you?"

"You don't really mean that. I know. It is only your pain talking."

"You know? _You know_? Don't patronize me, Elphaba."

"I would never."

"You don't have a clue. You say you know, how could you?"

"Oh? What don't I know?"

He started to reply but paused and looked contemptous. "I know what you're doing. You trying to trick me."

"Why would I do that? And trick you how?"

"You can drop the superior attitude. If we are discussing what does and does not suit, well it hardly fits in one so _green_."

"Am I supposed to be offended," she continued on keeping her voice calm, although the comment did smart. "Are you trying to hurt me Fiyero? So you won't be the only one suffering here? There are better ways of drawing sympathy."

"Oh you bitch, you just keep on with that."

"And then what? I suppose you'll tell me how you hate me and all the reasons why? Forgive me if I don't listen. If I seem bored...we've already covered _that_, after all." And then she let out a long sighing yawn to exaberate.

A tense silence prevailed.

Eventually, he said, "I followed you that night." He cleared his throat and possibly his memory as well. "Lurlinemas Eve. I'm still not sure why I did, but I followed you the entire way. And then when it was over and you weren't able to..." His fists were balled up, tightening on the blankets. "I lost sight of you and I was afraid that the Gale Forces had gotten hold of you somehow, while I wasn't paying attention. So I went back to your loft. The last thing I expected was to find those men there."

"Yes, because I was so virginal," she said, trying to lighten her own mood. This was not something she wanted to hear right now.

But he ignored her. "Or for them to find me, I should say." He hesitated now, his distress and anger peaking. "I waited for you. I kept telling myself you and your cell would come along and get me and all of the other political prisoners out of that hellhole, but was I in for a rude awakening."

_This is a broken man. This is your Fiyero, wounded to the core_, she had to remind herself, to keep her own anger in check. "I told you, I thought you were dead," she told him, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Did you even look? Did you bother to find out?"

She bit her tongue, literally. This was true enough, she hadn't. Of course, at that time, she hadn't exactly been in a fit state to do so.

"Was I not worth saving?" He suddenly remembered an old argument of theirs. "Didn't I count as one of your 'real' people? Was I not _real_ enough to be saved?"

"Fiyero..." How she despised her hubris of those days, her blind ideals filled with an unresolved rage.

And then in a soft, defeated voice, "Is that why I don't feel like a real person anymore?"

"I love you," she told him.

But he just made a disparging noise.


	15. Chapter 15

Dreaming again, what else did he have left but these random pieces of consolation?

_It was the weekend and an abbreviated version of the circle were outside of the Peach and Kidneys._

_Elphaba had shucked off Nessarose, and Nanny and was glad for the break. "She's just so helpless," she was telling the boys, with mixed sympathy and irritation. The person in question went well without saying._

_"The only reason she cannot is because they will not let her," Fiyero said to no one in particular._

_But Elphaba was lost in thought about how best to accomodate her tragedy-laden younger sister. It took some time for the words to register. She froze up, stiffening. And then she turned her head very slowly in his direction. "What did you say?"_

_"Oh no," Boq gulped. "It was nice knowing you," he said hastily, putting a sympathetic hand on Fiyero's arm and backing away to a safe distance._

_Elphabas eyebrows were raised and she was staring at Fiyero with an unfathomable expression. "Are you suggesting," at this point Fiyero threw a panicked look over his shoulder at Boq, looking for help. Boq just shook his head as if to say, 'Oh no, you made your own bed. Dont look at me.' Elphaba went on, that we, my father and Nanny and I are Nessa's true handicap?_

_"I-," Fiyero stammered._

_Elphaba cut him off, "That perhaps if we didnt indulge her so, left her to fend for herself, that she would be better off? Is that what you are telling me?"_

_"Oh this is going to be ugly. Maybe I shouldn't watch," Boq said to himself. But as with most people, morbid fascination won out propriety. He was rivetted._

_"Maybe even suggesting that our love is her greatest bane?"_

_"Miss Elphaba, I did not mean to offend."_

_She made no comment for several beats. "No, of course not," she replied in a barely audible voice. "I feel I should kiss you now," she said in a louder tone. "But I won't. Wouldn't want to put you off your supper," she said, mildly._

_Boq looked stunned. He looked again at Fiyero, who wore an expression of baffled relief. Elphaba, however, would not look at either of them the rest of the time._

_She met him under the mallowood later that day. "I have to say, Master Fiyero, you intrigue me," she said mildly. He looked over at her with an expression of hopeful curiosity. "I'm not saying that I like you," she elaborated. "I'm just saying you give me pause. I can't quite figure you out. What game are you playing?"_

_"I am not trying to play a game, Miss Elphaba."_

_"Oh please, you and your little I'm so shy act."_

_He bit the corner of his lip and demurred his gaze but that seemed to irritate her more. "Just cut it out already. And besides if you go and do that around Crope and Tibbet and you'll be getting more than you bargained for."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Oh Sweet Oz, do I have to explain that one to you? Haven't you noticed the way Crope moons over you when Tibbet's not looking?"_

_He didn't understand but he didn't want to let on. He gave her a noncommital, "Oh."_

_"You really have no clue, do you? Just remember: don't bend over."_

_"I am thinking that Miss Elphaba, if she were in the Vinkus, that she would be feeling as lost and confused as Fiyero in Gillikin." _

_Her eyebrows went up, it was the closest thing to nerve he had shown so far and they both knew it. She smiled to herself and said, "Well, well, he does have a spirit." She gave him a sly look. "Imagine that, there is hope for you yet, mo deas."_


	16. Chapter 16

Something had happened, she remembered. But just what that was still eluded her. She didn't really care anyway.

His hands were still cold, she realized. Like ice. And she was warm all over. She drew up against him, in their fortress of goose-down and wool, this sanctuary of warmth and forgetfulness. She breathed it in, moved closer still, taking in his scent. The smell of mountain tops, she told herself. Of dusty plains, and a sea of grass. Rich images were spawned of these thoughts. She could so easily lose herself in them.

She didn't open her eyes, the light was a terrible nuisance. Instead she drew the blankets up higher, hiding them both. Some one drew it back down, much to her irritation. She growled at them and snatched it back. But they were persistant.

"You're sick, Elphaba. You need to try to drink this."

Nonsense. She wasn't sick, she just didn't want to be bothered and they were irritating the hell out of her.

Fiyero was beside himself and would be of no help, Crope realized. This was a bad day for him, the crisis of Elphaba's exhaustion pushing him back to the mentality of a five year old. Or maybe not. The real five year old here was more capable at the moment. He sobbed and moaned about making her sick, and was well on the way to working himself up into quite a state. Crope had seen how Elphaba had given herbs to him in times like this. He found the bergamot and laced Fiyero's drink with it. He wasn't sure how it worked but Elphaba used it alot. Even on herself.

So not knowing what else to do he gave them to Fiyero and left them alone to sleep it off._  
_

Elphaba dreamt she was back in the Mauntery.

_Strangely it was deserted of people. She walked the halls, and through the small chapel. She opened a window and looked out on an ice covered garden. The ground beneath her feet, too, was suddenly blanketed in ice. She stared at, bewildered, for a few minutes. But then even in the midst of the dream she recognized it for what it was and looked back out. _

_In the center was the frozen sculpture of a long-legged white bird. Possibly one of those water birds, an ibis? Not that it really mattered. She looked up to see the icicles gathered on the eaves were dripping as they slowly melted. The white kingdom was not long for the world it seemed. _

_She left the window and walked carefully across the frozen floor. She felt it crunch beneath her feet, but it didn't pain her at least. She kept moving. _

_"Is a strange place to be," she heard him say._

_She smiled to herself. Of course, he was here. She turned around and faced him. "My dream not yours," she teased. _

_He shrugged, one sleeve of his tunic slipping down his arm as he did. She arched an eyebrow. This certainly was the most lucid dream she had had in ages. _

_"This is where I found you again. Do you remember?"_

_He gave her a sidelong glance. "Of course, I do. This is your dream after all."_

_"But what about-"_

_"What do you think?"_

_"It's impossible to tell. One day you seem almost like your old self, but then the next your angry and hurt. Or sometimes...," she broke off not wanting to think about it._

_"You think me too damaged?"_

_She nodded her head, in dismay. "It seems more and more that way. I want you to be alright."_

_"And that's why I'm here?" He gave her a questioning look. "This is how you want to see me."_

_"More than anything," she whispered._

_"I want that too, if only to see you smile again." She felt a blush rise. He tilted his head a bit to the side and seemed to have an idea. He took her hands with one of his and with the other used two fingers to close her eyes. "Just a second...okay, now." He took his fingers away and she opened her eyes._

_It was the little room in the shanty. It looked exactly the same but held a warmth both physically and emotionally that the real one lacked. "Oh Fiyero..."_

_But he demurred, "This is your dream, remember? I only do and say what you want me to."_

_"Maybe..." She went over and fell back into the blankets, feeling very young. "Mmm...this is nice. What more could I want?"_

She sighed happily and opened her eyes. She was laying there with her head resting on his knee as he was sitting up. She couldn't see his face, it was between her and the light, but it seemed he smiled at her. "I am helping you feel better," he said softly.

She smiled back. "Yes, and thanks to you I am feeling much better."_  
_


	17. Chapter 17

It was another two days before she could convince Crope that she wouldn't pass out again. But he still wouldn't let her do much. She balked and put on a show of irritation but really she was glad for the extra time with Fiyero.

"Good morning," she said softly as he came awake. He smiled sleepily at the sound of her voice and she allowed herself a measure of hope. It might be a good sign. Maybe. "I wanted to try something," she told him. "It's not going to be easy but I need you to trust me. Can you do that?"

He looked dubious and said nothing. So she took a deep breath and plowed ahead. "Come on, sit up," she told him. "Can you see me," she asked, moving in front of him as he complied.

He nodded but looked frustrated. "Shapes...colors." He reached out to touch her face, but she stopped his hand.

"That's good," she said, trying to sound cheerful. "I need you to focus on me. Just relax, take a deep breath and let it out. Just keep doing that and keep looking at me."

"But that's not hard. Fae, what-"

"Oh believe me, we'll get to that part. For now just listen to me."

"But I don't-"

"Ugh, just do it and trust me, this is for your own good."

"My own good," he repeated. The phrase brought up images of Jemmsy and the tools of his trade. Fiyero recoiled from her but she kept an iron-like grip on his wrists.

"Relax," she told him. "You're here with me, remember. Right here. Whatever happened, it's over now. And you're here and you're safe. Remember that." She made her voice soft and slow. "Just listen to my voice and keep breathing. You'll feel better in a minute." She lifted his wrists. "Feel my touch. This is where you are. Those things can't hurt you anymore."

"I've never been so scared in my life," he told her.

"I know, I know. Just breathe. Deep, slow breaths." She slid her hands up his arms. "Let my voice be your anchor. Feel my hands. Everything else is just the shadow of the past."

"They put me in this room and left me there for a fortnight. There were rats..."

She wondered if he meant he had been forced to live off them or if they had merely plagued him. She shuddered at the thought.

But he went on. "I thought I was going to die down there. There was no light and no sound. When they finally opened the door I was so happy I would have kissed their feet. I nearly cried for joy. But then I remembered myself and what they were about."

"It's the past, Fiyero. I know it's painful but we need to move forward and not back. Those people won't ever find you again." She paused to allow her words to sink in. "Lay on your stomach. Keep breathing and forget those things."

She took a bottle of lavender oil from the bedside nook and poured some in her hands. She slid them across his back and shoulders, trying to ignore the puckered scars.

"Sometimes they would inject me with this stuff and I would be paralyzed for hours," he said, but his voice was now muffled by the quilt. "And then they would either torture me or put a hood over my head and then do it. Or sometimes they just left me there so I couldn't see what they were up to. There was no knowing what would happen and it was just the endless waiting and the fear and the anticipation."

"Shhh...don't think on it. Remember to breath." She cleared her throat. "_Try not to get worried, try not to turn on to problems that upset you/Don't you know everything's alright, yes, everything's fine/And I want you to sleep well tonight, let the world turn without you tonight/If we try, we'll get by, so forget all about us tonight."_

Her words, the rhythmic motion of her hands, his own breath, all came together in a hypnotic effect. "I know what you're trying to do," he told her, but without any real conviction.

She laughed lightly but kept it up. "_Sleep and I shall soothe you, calm you and anoint you/Myrrh for your hot forehead/Then you'll feel everything's all right, yes, everything's fine/And it's cool and the ointment's sweet, for the fire in your head and feet/Close your eyes, close your eyes, and relax, think of nothing tonight."_

"Think of something nicer. What's something that makes Fiyero happy?"

"Shiz. When we were at Shiz," he murmured, now half-asleep. And just like that he was back there, in the Life Sciences lectern.

_"And please don't wear your hair like that again. Spare us all from being embarrassed for you. You look like an inebriated porcupine," Elphaba shot at Boq._

_He just smiled and replied, "You're giving me fashion tips? Been hanging around Miss Galinda a little too much, have we? Isn't that her forte?"_

_"Touche," Elphaba said, but she looked pleased._

_"Seriously though, I'm surprised you're back in this class. I felt for sure after that incident last week and that poor little lion cub...," Boq told her._

_That certainly set her off. "Ha! That little demonstration. It was despicable, that's what it was! Don't get used to seeing me though, I still have half a mind to resign in protest."_

_"No!," Avaric cried in mock-despair. "You don't mean that? And I was just beginning to enjoy these little chats."_

_She gave him a frosty look._

_But Boq looked genuinely taken aback. "But Miss Elphie..." He didn't continue, realizing that neither was paying any attention to him. If looks could kill than he would certainly be dead, stuck here in between these two. He glanced quickly at both and then down at his books. He leaned back and pretended to stretch and yawn and knocked his books over in the process. The fact that this was intentional was lost on no one._

_Fiyero, having been listening and hoping that no one caught him, seized his chance to enter the conversation. He came forward to help them gather the books, and maybe gather some information. "Miss Elphaba, what did you mean when you said it had a political implication?"_

_"Oh, don't get me started," she said in a tone that suggested she wanted him to do just that. "They're trying to brainwash us into their way of thinking and you're just the sort to be naive enough to fall for their sleights and lies."_

_"Elphaba!," Boq scolded._

_"Yes, Mother," she said, giving him a look. "Boq thinks I should practice in docility. Is that a word? Anyway he thinks I should actually keep my mouth shut, but I don't really care what he thinks."_

_Boq rolled his eyes and ignored her._

_"Oh...," Fiyero said softly._

_"What does that mean," Elphaba snapped at him. _

_"Oh! It means oh, Elphaba! For the love of the Unnamed God, can you give it a rest," Boq grumbled at her._

_"You boys, you're all the same. Far be it for a woman to actually have a mind of her own. Speak up for herself and such," she hissed at the two of them, slaming the books back onto Boq's desk._

_Boq sighed and looked over at Fiyero. "She's such a kind, sweet-natured girl, don't you think?"_

_"I meant no offense," Fiyero told her, trying to pacify._

_She seemed to accept it. "Well, I suppose not. And a word of advice, try an close your ears to these things that they try and force on you. They do you more harm than anything else."_

_"Oh here, we go: Lies and deceit. Conspiracy theories...the whole world is out to get me," Boq teased._

_"You can laugh...but we'll see who's right," she told him. "In the meantime, Fiyero, if you want to meet us by our usual haunt by the Suicide Canal, I'll explain what I meant by political implication, in full." She gave Boq another look._

_Fiyero was delighted to be included in something, even despite Elphaba's quick temper, but before he could say as much, Dr. Nikidik made his entrance into the lectern and it was a call for the class's attention._


	18. Chapter 18

_Oh the hell of true solitary confinement. And here I am using what I percieved as his condition of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder), his quirk of having to count things in sets of three. _

_

* * *

_

Two, three, four walls. He put his hand, palm up against one of them. But which was it? It was impossible to tell in this lightless vaccuum. He imagined it was the western wall. He thought of this and tried to remember home. Home was in the west, he reminded himself. At least that much he still knew but everything else was growing vague as his new reality asserted itself.

_Unbecoming. Becoming un...Someone had said that..._

_"Fae," he whispered into the darkness. Strange to hear his voice again. In trying to maintain silence, he had nearly forgotten that he could talk. "Elphaba," he said finally. Fae wasn't her real name. She was Elphaba._

_Elphaba Thropp._

_Nessarose._

_Avaric._

_Boq._

_Crope and Tibbet._

_Shenshen._

_Milla._

_Pfannee._

_Names, names...no faces to speak of. _

_He had once been a part of something._

_"School. I went to school," he told himself._

_Irji, Manek and Nor. More names, still no faces. Nothing there to recall. Maybe it was just a fancy..._

_Two, three, four walls. His hand firmly pressed against this one. How long had he been here? Hours? Days? Did it matter? Time stretched on._

___Two, three, four walls. _He walked in a circle, sliding his hand along as he moved, counting them again and again. He couldn't see or hear, as there was nothing in this place to see or hear. But if he kept his hand on the wall, feeling it, maybe he would survive.

_He repeated the ritual for hours until he fell into a daze and let go without realizing. The panic came immediatly. __Something terrible would happen if he didn't find it again! Almost beyond clear thinking, he didn't know what exactly the something terrible was, or that it was already happening. He just knew that he had to keep his hand on the wall._

_He found it again, finally, and relaxed. His thoughts convalesced somewhat. He put his forehead there and began smiling like a fool. Like the madman he was rapidly becoming, he realized and shivered at the thought. _

___Unbecoming. Becoming un..._

___Stop it!_

___He shook his head, feeling more alarmed by the second._

___Irji, Manek and Nor. Meaningless words and sounds._

___Two, three, four walls. No, three walls. And a door. This was just a door. If it was a door, maybe it led somewhere? _

___A door, a door..._

___He shook his head again, trying to clear it, trying to maintain a steadier train of thought. He sighed with relief as they began to settle themselves into something more reasoning. _

___It had to, he decided. It had to lead somewhere. He couldn't have always been here._

___Fae...Elphaba...becoming un...damn it!_

___One, two, three walls and a door._

___He tried to kill himself by bashing his head in against one of them. But he only succeeded in knocking himself out._

___A rat bit at his leg, bringing him around again. He got to his feet after kicking it away. He went back to the wall and leaned against it, staring off into the depths._

___This was madness, he told himself. And you're indulging yourself._

___This is hell, he thought after several more hours had passed. No wonder you couldn't kill yourself. You're already dead. Hell is a deep nothing where you are made to forget...also, why else would I be so thirsty? The last coherent thought he had for sometime, if it could even be called that._

___One, two, three walls and a door. _

___Madness wasn't such a beguiling mistress anymore, but a loathsome beast that ripped his mind to shreds._

___The rats were swarming him. He felt them crawling over every inch. He shrieked and bellowed, throwing himself around to pry them loose. He bruised and battered himself against the walls, no need to count them again..._

___He tore at his own arms, gouging deep tracks, in defense of the imagined vermin._

___"How long," Commander Brekhil asked._

___"Thirty-two hours," Jemmsy replied. "I'm disapointed, really."_

___"Ah, I've seen them fall apart in five. Let him out."_

___The door swung open and the light stung his eyes. He retreated to the far end, snarling at the men._

___Jemmsy smiled when one of the guards gave him an uncertain look. "He's a Winkie, of course, they don't call them wildmen for nothing, you know," he said nonchalantly._

___But the prisoner did look a fright, he had to admit. Bloodied and bruised, but every wound self-inflicted. Blood freely from the scratches on his arms, and dried up near the scalp._

___They took him to the outside, to the waterfont. There was, for some unknown reason, that this one be kept alive, Jemmsy had been told. So he turned it on for the prisoner but the water ineffectually splashed on the ground._

___One of the minders laughed, watching the prisoner just sit there and stare dumbly at the water. Jemmsy glared at the guard and splashed the prisoner's face with it. But he merely growled at Jemmsy and turned his head away._

___The warehouse district could be seen from the other side of the fence, had he enough sense to know what he was looking at._

___The prisoner blinked suddenly and his mouth opened as if in astonishment. But astonishment was a complicated emotion, and if he lacked even the survival instinct anymore, than surely anything else would be beyond him, Jemmsy reasoned. Besides it was only a dilapidated corn exchange._

___He looked back at the water, staring at it like things were finally coming together. _

___Base thoughts only. Here was running water and he was thirsty._

___He cupped his hands and drank, and afterwards, scrubbed at his face. _

___He stared at his arms, and the blood under his fingernails. _

___He covered his face with his hands, and sat there shaking for a minute. _

___But when he took them down, his eyes were dry. He looked back at the corn exchange, watching it with some intent._

___Nonplussed, Jemmsy wondered what this was all about._

___The prisoner's lips moved. _

___"Fae," he said, but there was no sound._

___Jemmsy shook his head, irritated that he had been distracted by this. He told the others to take the prisoner back inside. _

___As they went, he noted, the prisoner kept turning his head to watch the old building._

He woke to considerable confusion and fear. Fae sat up and asked him what was wrong. But he wouldn't tell her. He lay back and waited for his heart to stop racing and eventually fell into a mercifully dreamless sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

_I wrote this stuff for another story, but I abandoned the concept and thought they would fit in better with this one. Probably the most damaging memory he has but for a different reason, of course._

_

* * *

_

Marillot Tigelaar was a fearless leader, it could even be said a cruel one, being most widely known for the conquest of the ill-concieved waterworks facility at Knobblehead Pike, and later for the conquest of Baxiana of Upper Fanarra.

_His son was not nearly so bold._

_Sarima turned her head to the side, biting her sleeve as if to keep herself from screaming. Her face was flushed and tear-stained. _

_He found it difficult to keep going with her reacting like that._

_Less than two minutes later he was laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling._

_The pressure, from the tribe, on him to produce an heir was increasing, but Sarima just wouldn't stop crying everytime he tried..._

_Sarima fled the Solar, a few minutes later, in tears. The oldest two of her sisters were hovering outside the doors. _

_"Is it really that painful, do you think," Three said a bit fearfully._

_"How should I know? Maybe he's just that bad at it."_

_Fiyero wished that they would find something better to do, but in knowing them, he knew it wasn't likely. But he left the door standing open and flipped himself over on his stomach, and pretended to sleep._

_Morning came and he went down into the valley, where he knew the herb woman from Red Windmill had been camped for several days now. She greeted him warmly and smiled, but not unkindly, at his obvious distress. "You are troubled," she said simply._

_He sat down cross-legged in the grass. "I am having trouble," he agreed._

_"With?"_

_He didn't exactly want to say, it was embarrassing enough as it was. "In the bedroom," he said quickly and in a low voice. He felt himself turning red._

_She had an idea, but wanted to tease him a little first. She put on a look of shock. "But you are very young! This should not be a problem into you are very old."_

_His look of mortification was priceless. "No, she is just so unhappy. I cannot please her."_

_She tried not to smile, he always set himself up it seemed. "Oh yes, that is a problem," she said indulgently._

_"That is not what I mean," he said, blushing even more fiercely. "She's afraid of me I think. I try and she gets upset and I can't finish things."_

_She teased him a little more on the matter, but then she relented and gave him a small bundle of herbs._

_That night he steeped the mixture in boiling water and gave the lot Sarima. She fell into wild giggling when he was undressing himself, and that didn't exactly help him either._

_The following night was no better. Two and Three had taken up their usual spot outside the doors and listened intently._

_"Why must you torment me so," Sarima could be heard clearly, to yell. "Are my sisters not capable enough?"_

_"But you are my wife," he pleaded with her._

_The girls exhanged looks with each other. It was a toss up, whether they were offended by her implication, or his subsequent rejection._

_But then Sarima cinched things by crying, "Go plague them for a change. That's what they're there for."_

_Fiyero sat up. He knew the others were there. He could see their shadows moving beneath the door frame. But he decided to ignore it for now. He put his hand on Sarima's shoulder. He wanted her to stop crying, for more reasons than the obvious one. "I am not monster. I'm not trying to hurt you. Please stop."_

_"I don't want you to touch me," she sobbed. She threw off his hand and turned her back to him._

_He lay back down and tried to comfort her, snuggling against her and putting his arm around her. But she would have none of it. Eventually, he gave up and tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep._


	20. Chapter 20

He told her, finally, of the memory, the things he had skated over before. It was painful, and he didn't want to tell her, but she was persistant.

"It sounds harmless enough," she agreed, "solitary confinement, but when it's done right, it can be the most cruel. Of course, I don't know personally but..."

Just talking about it brought up mental images of himself cowering in the back of that cell, like a caged beast. He shivered.

"Are you cold?"

"No. Its strange, I had forgotten most of it."

"The mind struggles to cope, it was too horrible to recall. Oh, Mo deas, you are just so brave." She laid her hand over his and uncurled his fist. "You're shaking, Fiyero."

"The isolation, Fae. It was-"

"It's okay, Mo deas."

"That was the real breaking point. After that I wasn't able to keep myself together much anymore. I had forgotten...And then two days later they put the knife in my cell. And I...," he broke off and turned his head away.

She looked down at his hand, clenched tightly again in a fist.

"What they pulled out of that room wasn't me. It was barely even human. I'd completely lost my mind."

"But you came back..."

"A little. I was able to understand the barest of things. I saw the corn exchange, and it was right there...I'm not exactly sure what I remembered. But it wasn't enough for me to handle what happened afterwards." He hesitated before confessing, "I did things. I hurt myself."

"You weren't mad, Fiyero. Or you wouldn't have recovered this much. Oh, Mo deas, they wanted you to feel less than human. They took your eyes, your tongue."

He flinched suddenly.

"What is it?"

"I did it, Fae."

She had a feeling she didn't want to hear this, and asked despite herself, "What?"

"I cut out my tongue. That was me, not them."

She stayed quiet and stared at him, shocked to silence. She glanced over at Crope, who had been entertaining Liir up til now. He also stopped and looked back at her, now gone pale.

Fiyero reached for her in desperation, "Fae, they taunted me with the knife. I wouldn't kill myself. I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction. And I wanted to prove that there was no way I would talk." He was ashamed and almost pleading with her. "I should've never-And then he got so mad at me when he saw what I had done."

Something akin to horror washed over her. She took his outstretched arm and pulled him against her, to where his head rested on her shoulder. "Oh, Mo deas, you poor man. Do you even know what you're telling me? This was not your fault."

"But I-"

"No, Fiyero. They hurt you and confused you."

"I was a stubborn prisoner. I brought alot of it on myself."

"Nobody asks to be treated that way."

"I was a traitor and I didn't even realize. A royalist-"

"Stop this. That's them talking."

"I should've relinquished my title, little that it actually meant. I had no right to hold it."

"So that is how the Wizard justifies the torture and incarceration of an innocent man? I had been wondering."

He pulled away and shook his head in frustration. "I was a prince. I had no right to call myself that. With those royalist leanings, I was in direct opposition to the Wizard. And I flaunted it. The time of the Ozmas was through. I should have relinquished my title and accepted his authority."

"Will you listen to that Wizard's speech? My, they have done an excellent job on brainwashing this one."

Her words had a profound and immediate effect. He recoiled even more, as if she had dealt him a blow. Well, she had, in a way. She regretted saying it but was also glad that she had. "Mo deas, you couldn't have known what they were doing to you."

"But I was wrong," he insisted, desperately.

"Someone told me recently, of a man, beaten down and degraded to the point that he lost all sense of himself. Forced to live like an animal, he nearly submitted to their will, but only after much suffering and humiliation."

"_Don't_."

"And when he was reminded of the things that he had lost, something amazing happened. He didn't despair further, but rather, he made the decision to survive, and to defy them even more. He drank the water they gave him and bathed himself in it. He reclaimed his humanity, even though he was broken and lost." She smiled warmly. "When I heard this, I told myself, 'Oh how beautiful this one is, how strong. They could never really destroy him.' "

"But they did-"

"Oh, but of course, he believed it when they lied to him. Fed him their bitter poison. Why should an innocent person suffer like this? He must be guilty of these crimes they speak of. He has to be, or he wouldn't be here. He must deserve these things. Otherwise, none of this would make sense." She paused, letting out a deep breath. "I think that sounds about right, the poor man. But tell me, Fiyero, what do you think?"

He was quiet for awhile, curling and uncurling his fists several times in slow succession. "I think, that those people had a way of convincing him of things."

"Yes, I'm sure they did," she agreed. She brushed some hair behind his ear, the touch gentle and loving. "Mo deas, you were so brave, so beautiful, sometimes I just can't believe it."

"Not anymore."

"What? Because of these," she asked, lightly touching the scars around his eyes. "Well, I don't know. From where I'm sitting they enhance it somehow."

* * *

_Mo deas = my pretty. For those who were wondering_


	21. Chapter 21

_There was never any trouble as far as Elphie was concerned. Unless you considered the mere sound of her voice was enough to..._

_He caught himself and tried to shift the focus of his thoughts elsewhere._

_It was bitter cold this mornign and they were huddled up against each other, for warmth, for other things... The blanket was pulled over their heads and it was easy for him to imagine that they were the only things in the world._

_He sighed with contentment, turning on his side and bringing himself even closer to her, painfully aware of their mutual nakedness. He worked his arm around and over, his hand eventually coming to rest at the small of her back._

_A smile quirked on her lips and she shook her head a little. Was she awake? Dreaming? "You scoundrel," she murmured. "You give me no rest." Shades of Sarima and her recriminations, but Elphie was only teasing and he knew it._

_And apparently he couldn't help himself, after all. He grinned sheepishly. "Yes, I'm rude. I'm a barbarian. Perhaps you should teach me a lesson in manners."_

_"Perhaps I shall."_

_She had long elegant fingers, he was suddenly reminded of this. "Well, you were always good with your hands. Where did you learn these skills, I wonder."_

_She removed her hand._

_"Best not to quibble over the past," he said quickly._

_She laughed, soft and low. "Nice save, my dear. Here you are more green than I."_

_"That is true," he acquiesced. "I am your willing slave. I have only-" here his voice broke at a sudden rush of flame. He tried to catch his breath._

_She laughed again. "Yero, you are such an idiot."_

_"Yes, a fool. A fool for you, a fool for Fae," he told her. He groaned with pleasure and moved against her._

He opened his eyes to a world still dark, save for the faintest etchings of light in the vague distance.

Those days were long gone, if they had even belonged to him in the first place. They teased and tormented, with the memories of joy, excitement and even the mild contentment. Fear, anxiety, despair, or just a suffocating numbness were the only things left to him. Either that or the rage that they invoked.

Fae was wrong. Some vital part of him had been lost in the barracks. _Could it be found again_, he wondered. _Was it the capacity for pleasure?_

He turned his head.

A green blur among a random smattering of color. "Fae," he called softly.

But she was already awake. "What is it?"

"We should make love," he said.

She hesitated before answering. "Oh, Fiyero, I'm not sure that's a good idea."

Sudden anger, like the blast of a furnace. "Why not," he demanded. "You think me not capable now?"

"That's a silly argument-"

"Then we should," he insisted. He pulled himself over her and pressed down on her.

"What the hell-Get off me!"

"We're doing this. Even if I have to-"

"If you have to what? Going to rape me, Fiyero?"

He said nothing, the remark stung, but he was too angry to really care. It did make him pause, though and that was all she needed to free herself. She shoved him off and left the room.

He stayed where he was for a few minutes, stewing in his anger.

_Didn't she know? Had she no clue? _His train of thought went on like that for awhile, dwindling down to near incoherence. He balled his fists, pressing them down into the bedding. Finally, he got up and went to slam the door. He fumbled for the lock.

From the other side they could hear the lock click. Crope watched as Elphaba shook her head. She pulled a key from a drawer and shook it at the door, as if Fiyero could have seen it.

"What is that about?"

"Oh, he's done things like this before. Well, not exactly that but he gets that way sometimes, he just doesn't remember..."

"You didn't answer me."

"And I'm not going to. He's trying to prove something to himself, and that's all you need to know."

He shook his head in frustration, but what good did it do to argue with her. "He's having memory problems?"

"Are you kidding me? He barely remembers his own name most days, all thanks to the wonderful hospitality of our local Gale Forcers."

"Elphaba, I've already told you this-"

"Yes, fine, alright. We're leaving for Colwen Grounds soon and he'll be better off there."

"Colwen Grounds! That's too far for him to go right now."

"And what? The Mauntery would be safer? With Gale Forcers all over the place?"

"Elphaba, think about this."

"Must you _always_ shoot me down? And hour, maybe two, and then we will stop so he can rest. There's no need for us to rush, I know how to stay out of sight."

"Fine. When will this happen."

"In a day or two. I have been preparing, whatever you may think. And I know people along the way. We can duck inside a hayloft, if nothing else, as the need arises." She hesitated, looking pensive. "I have this growing fear that the Gale Forcers are amassing outside these doors. I fear that they will break down the door and take everything that we have worked so hard for will be taken away again. They needn't torture me, the knowledge of that will be enough." Another pause before adding, "Without his strength of will I would have accomplished nothing."

* * *

_Fiyero smoothed a layer of rose oil over her stomach and leaning down, kissed the skin there, sucking on it. He laughed at himself, already becoming aroused, and she laughed with him, teasing his hair as she teased him. He moved up, kissing her mouth, and she rose up to greet him, looping her arm around the back of his neck._

He struggled with these images. The anger smoldered again. His face was wet, he realized. _Crying again! _Angry with himself for being so weak, with her for denying him. He reached for something, anything, and threw it across the room, with all his strength -not much anymore, he thought with some bitterness- there was a satisfying crash as it made contact. He felt a little better, but not enough.

The others in the house all looked up at the sound. Crope again turned his attention back to Elphaba.

"I have to leave him alone for now. Best if this is left to run it's course," she explained, and then turned back to the meal she was preparing.

Later, she took his to him.

"You had a key," he accused, standing up, suddenly incensed.

"Of course, I have the key. You can't lock me out, no matter what you try," she said, trying to tell him many things.

He said nothing, just glared in her general direction. It was dark in here, she noted, and he could only guess by the sound of her voice.

But she knew what was coming and acted to let him work through his tantrum. She set down the bowl, with a clink, to ensure that he would know where it was. Manipulating him as thoroughly as any of the Gale Forcers had, but this time it actually was for his benefit.

His face hardened at the sound. As expected, he moved to throw it on the floor.

Her calmness would anger him further, so she knelt to clean it up without saying a word.

It only took a few minutes. He pushed her roughly to the floor.

"Hit me, Fiyero," she taunted. "Kick me, if you must. Rape me, even." She got back to her feet and locked him in her gaze. "Make me hurt, the way they made _you_ hurt. I want you to do it. Would that I could take some of your pain away, into myself. Strike me down, Fiyero. And then leave me alone in here bleeding and broken, as was done to you so many times. I want you to. But I wonder, will it help? Will you feel better then?"

She faced him, preparing herself. She knew him well enough, she felt, but he had been changed, so who could tell?

He came towards her, his face livid. She closed her eyes, steeling herself. But his fist went wide, striking the wall. She relaxed and looked. Wide enough to be deliberate. Relieved for herself, and him as well, she let out a deep breath. He wasn't that changed...

She wrapped her hand around his wrist and moved his arm away. "I love you," she said firmly.

"Don't say that," he snapped, trying to free his hand.

"Why shouldn't I? Anyone would."

He thought of Sarima and her endless weeping as he, by the rules and customs of his tribe, forced him to take her. He hid behind those rules, to make him feel better about himself. And later, having fallen in love with the infant Irji, such a perfect little person in his eyes, and demanding more of her. Was it any wonder that the children grew to be as cold as their mother? The price for hurting her in his selfish need for love.

And then there was the way he had almost hurt Fae, if not for passion than at least something pleasurable.

"It's not true," he said, feeling cold.

"I love you," she repeated, louder now.

A knot formed in his chest and bitter tears stung at his eyes. He grimaced, showing his teeth, raising his hand again, not to strike her but to wipe them away angrily, infuriated by their presence.

But she seized his other wrist and held it fast. "I love you," she said, enunciating every word.

"Let go of me," he demanded.

"Never," she told him, tightening her grip. "I love you," sotto voce.

The knot dissolved and his legs gave a little. He fell forward and she steadied him. The tears came in a flood and he couldn't stop them and then he didn't care, with Fae's consoling hands, on the back of his head, between his shoulder blades.

Bit by bit, everything came apart, now the grief subsiding, now it overwhelmed again. He crushed her to him; she stroked his hair softly.

"Not a man, not a person," he said. Her own words come back to her. "Nothing feels real anymore. I want to feel something, Fae." It occured to her that maybe he had forgotten _her_ real name too. "It just hurts and sometimes I don't even know why."

Relief seeped in eventually and spent and exhausted he leaned heavily on her. She pushed him back just to where he was sitting on the bed. She dried his face with her sleeve. "Better now?"

"Yes," he said sniffling a bit, reminding her of a child. She wondered, not for the first time, if that was more or less the truth by now.

"You should know that we will be leaving in a few days.

"Leaving?" Suddenly he was alarmed. He hadn't been outside this house in...how long? And only left the room once or twice that he could remember. He felt silly for being afraid of something so trivial, but still...

"We're going to Colwen Grounds. Its much safer, for both of us. Away from Emerald City and the Wizard, his men. And for other reasons, we'll both be better off there than here. But I'm going to leave it up to you. If you'd be more comfortable staying? Or maybe you'd rather go back home to Kiamo Ko."

"They don't need me."

"It's your family," she reminded him.

"Fiyero is dead to them, has been for years. They'll go on as they have since then." He paused. "They don't actually need me or even want me there, so I'm not abandoning them," he said as if to convince himself.

"Alright, then we're leaving, morning after next, for my family home."


	22. Chapter 22

"Well, how was I supposed to know it was normal? I didn't know anything about that kind of thing back then," he explained laughing at himself.

She was laughing so hard at the recount that she nearly fell over.

"All I knew is that she was bleeding and I _just knew _that I had hurt her. Plus, I knew that it would give her another reason to hate me."

"She sounds horrible."

"It's not really her fault. She had no say in the matter."

"Neither did you," she pointed out.

"No maybe not," he said. He turned his head the other way, as if to drop the subject.

"They can trace us to the Mauntery, and from there to that little place," she told him. She glanced back in the direction of where they had come from. They had only made it to the frost apple orchard so far, barely five miles away, but she didn't want to push him just yet.

"You really think that they will come looking for us," he asked her.

"Who can say? I'm not about to give them any opportunity though."

"You've been doing so much for me, I haven't really thanked you."

"It's worth it, just talking to you again."

"Is it?"

"I think so."

He shrugged and looked away again. After awhile, he dozed against one of the tree trunks.

If they made towards Kumbricia's Pass they would be in Munchkinland before nightfall. But she had developed a healthy sense of paranoia, and surmised that that route would be the first the Gale Forcers would comb. The map she had figured in her mind, took them all the way to Q'hore and then through the Cloth Hills and would take over a week, but it would throw them off their trail, if they were in fact being followed.

She remembered that last conversation with Crope, how she had made him swear to tell them where they were headed, if he was captured. The destination could always be changed in a moment's notice...she just didn't want another one like this on her conscience.

She felt uneasy all at once again. She woke up Fiyero.

A male voice, extremely close, did nothing to calm her anxiety. She swore beneath her breath and dragged him along behind her.

She had covered the area thoroughly, these past several weeks and had found a small cave during one of her outings. It was well concealed, you'd almost have to know where it was, having little more than a hole in the ground for an entrance. It would force them to crawl in on their hands and knees. Cramped and dark and damp, it would be hell for Fiyero, she knew, but what else could she do?

He was hesitant at first, of course, once he got the gist of the situation. "I don't think-"

She winced at the sound of voices and she watched him stiffen. "Go," she hissed, pushing against him. He looked unhappy but complied. She followed him and once inside she pulled a palm frond over the opening.

Maybe, just maybe, luck and the chance that the Gale Force would expect them to be long gone by now, would be their salvation.

But this was a hideous place to be, and her heart ached for Fiyero, shoved up beside her. The passage was narrow, and neither could hardly move around. Not even six inches, in which to raise themselves off the ground. It was bad enough for her.

"Are you alright," she asked him, trying to keep her voice low.

"I'm not a child, Fae," he snapped at her.

"I know you're not," she said mildly, and left it alone.

But he hated it, of course. Too much like the isolation tank, that dark room. Too much like the cell he had been forced to live in with its smell of vermin. He supressed a shiver. Then he recognized some of the voices; they turned his blood to ice.

"Fae," he whispered.

"Shhh...they might hear." Maybe they were farmers, or travellers, who knew? But it wasn't worth the risk.

But then he, manuvering around to where he could whisper in her ear, told her, "Its the soldiers, Fae."

She didn't answer.

"Jemmsy," he went on, feeling ill. "And his boys."

"The ones who-."

"Yes."

A few moments of silence. "Don't worry. I'll get rid of them." But then she made no move, and something in her voice chilled his heart. He shifted away from her a little.

They had been watching, she realized. Had to have been, or they wouldn't have caught on so quickly. She cursed herself for not noticing.

Fiyero fidgeted beside her. She could tell he was struggling for control. She reached over and squeezed his hand.

"I can't stand this," he told her in a shaky voice.

"I know. I'm sorry. There's no where else to hide though."

"Damn it, there's something crawling on me. Sweet Lurline, won't they just _go away_."

"They don't know we are here. They can't know," she said, trying to reassure herself, as much as him. "Try and stay calm, okay?"

"I am trying! This isn't easy for me you know."

"Fiyero, please don't throw all of this away."

"I can't do this Fae. I can't stay in here."

She swore under her breath. "Try and think of something else. _Please_, Fiyero," she said, sounding desperate.

He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped her hand all the tighter.

There was nothing else to do but wait.


	23. Chapter 23

_Fiyero loitered around the Goldhaven District, looking at the gaudy, ostentatious homes that ran its length._

_Lone walkers, couples, small groups passed him, his presence inspiring many disapproving looks. One young woman, walking alone, even quickened her pace when she caught him looking her way. His eyebrows went up. Was he really that dangerous looking? He watched her all but flee the scene. _

_He shrugged and decided to ignore the rest of them._

_A group of children, out-of-place in this chilly environment, squealed and laughed as they ran around throwing snowballs at each other, in front of a sprawling manor._

_The nouveau riche, he supposed, not yet acclimated into this society. He watched them for sometime, thinking of his own children back in the Great Kells. _

_But then a fretting governess, or nanny, or maybe even the children's grandmother, came bustling out the front door to put a stop to it. The children whined as they clumped back inside their home, and Fiyero felt himself disappointed along with them._

_The old lady caught him staring, much as the younger one had some mintues ago. She stuck up her chin and flicked the collar of her rich fur coat up at him. _

_It was a gesture so blatantly superior that there was no mistaking it, even from this far away._

_Shocked and mortified, he averted his eyes, trying to affect an air of nonchalance. The Scrow had a tradition of lowered gazes, the avoidance of eye contact. Maybe he should take their example._

_All of this reminded him of Avaric, who would be in his element here. But then, he thought to himself, anyone could change. Avaric could have adopted a warmer persona, it was possible, however unlikely. Maybe Fiyero should look him up and find out._

_He paused by a fountain, the center piece being a jade -well, obviously this was Emerald City- a jade water nymph._

_Bare-breasted and pouty-lipped, she displayed an eroticism in stark contrast with her surroundings. _

_He was intrigued. It was all he could do not to walk into the water to get a closer look._

_But then, he thought, what the hell? They were already staring, or avidly not looking at him. Why not give them a reason?_

_He slipped off his sandals and pushed up his pants legs before splashing his way in._

_There were goldfish in the water, and the larger carp, of the koi variety. His mind wandered as he watched them and he felt a momentary rush of shame for invading their space. But that was silly, they were only fish... They skirted away from him, all but one, a particularly large and golden carp. It hovered in the water near his feet, looking up at him as if in anticipation. _

_Strange behavior for a fish, he thought. Or maybe not. It was probably used to passersby giving it treats and was just more bold than its fellows. Maybe that was why it seemed expectant._

_The pool itself was an extravagance, well suited to this community__. Never mind that they were children starving a stone's throw from here. He could almost hear Elphaba's raging over it._

_There were, of course, persons employed with the upkeep of it. Persons who would otherwise go hungry themselves and spawn more starving children. Would Elphaba see that aspect of it?_

_Probably not, he decided. She would argue that the funds spent to create such an eyesore would be better put directly into the pockets of those poor men. _

_Any argument that he would put to her, no matter how well-reasoned it sounded to him, would be made foolish and weak by her impassioned ideals._

_It was easy for her to call him a coward when she only had herself to worry about._

_He stopped himself, surprised that he would be feeling bitter, even resentful to her. _

_He turned his attention back to the sculpture._

_Her gaze was downcast and she bit one corner of her full lower lip. This was enticing in its reticence. Her face was slightly tilted upwards, though, in joy? Defiance? __A hand cupped her cheek and the other rested around the bottom of her gently rounded belly. She was pregnant, it seemed. __A flowing skirt hung elegantly from her __aesthetic hips, which were perfect for the birthing. One leg came slightly forward, pushing through slit in her skirt. Her face was beautiful, regal. Her shyness magnifying it somehow._

___He looked for a watermark, some signature of the maker. But couldn't find it. Maybe the artist preferred anonymity? But it must be someone with passion for their craft. The stone was high-quality, for one thing. He would have been disappointed to find it was a piece of mass production. He decided, at least for himself, that it was unique._

___He suddenly realized what he must look like, a native man gawping foolishly at a statue. He climbed back out, in a rush. _

___The carp drifted to the edge of the pool, bobbing near the surface, watching him still._


	24. Chapter 24

_Coming home to the Kells after the first season at Shiz, he found Two waiting to greet him in the front hall. She had that devious look about her, the one that always gave him pause._

_"And so he returns, the great Master of the Kells, from rubbing elbows among Oz's finest, to graciously honor we lowly slope dwellers with his presence," she said sumptously._

_He ignored this and asked, "Where's Sarima?"_

_"Oh, her. Well, she must be in the Solar. Bed rest, and all. What with her delicate condition."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_But she just looked smug. __He hated when she was like this, which was most of the time. _

_He quickened his pace but it seemed that the others were waiting just around the corner and they came at him all at once._

_"Here, Fiyero, let me take your coat," Six said, reaching for it._

_"No, let me," Three insisted and they began to squabble over the task._

_"Fiyero, I made you pearlfruit jam. You simply must try it with these scones that I baked for your homecoming," Four said, thrusting the plate at him._

_"Do you like my new perfume? I just bought it from Upper Fanarra," Five told him, and she turned her head so he could smell her neck. As if he would want to._

_He backed away from them. "Please, ladies, I am travel weary."_

_"Oh then you must sit down. I will get you a chair."_

_"And I'll bring you a pillow so you can put up your feet."_

_"Let me feed you then and get rid of my sisters."_

_"No, no. I'm going to draw him a bath."_

_"Girls, mercy, give the boy room to breath," Baxiana called, shooing them away. "They act like beasts. You'd think I've taught them nothing of ettiquette. It reflects on me." Once they were well out of sight, she turned to her son. "And you, back at last from the University. It is going well, I hope."_

_"I'm still getting used to Gillikin. But I passed all my exams and I am making friends."_

_She nodded. _

_"Thank you for getting rid of them. I had forgotten what they were like."_

_She smiled. "They mean well, in their own way. If they weren't painfully obvious. You will be wanting to be taking up with Sarima, of course?"_

_He felt himself blush when she mentioned his wife. "Two said something when she greeted me. Is Sarima sick?"_

_Baxiana's face hardened, and she glanced towards the fronthall. "It was not her place," she told him. _

_"What has happened," he said suddenly fearful._

_"She is doing well, to put your mind at ease, but perhaps you should hurry on up to the Solar see to her."_

_Without excusing himself, he left her, rushing upstairs to the Solar. An idea had formed in his mind but he wasn't sure. Reaching it's double doors he slipped through, and locked them behind them._

_Sarima was propped up on several pillows and looked over at him, with a considerable lack of surprise. "Oh," she said yawning. "I thought you would be home in the morning."_

_"I am glad to be seeing you too, Sarima."_

_She rolled her eyes. "Well, of course, I'm glad your home," although she didn't sound it. "The midwife did say no sudden movements, you know."_

_"How did this happen," he asked, mostly himself._

_She looked annoyed. "Well, before you left for the University, you did something to me...Made a big deal of it too," she said, mumbling the last part under her breath. __"The midwife is certain it's a boy. You have your heir, and now I suppose I have served my purpose." She was being nasty, but he knew that was what she wanted anyway, for him to leave her alone._

_But he only heard one thing. "It is a boy?"_

_She went on ignoring what he said, "I don't see what you're so fussed about. The baby will be here in less than two months. But by that time, you will be back at your studies."_

_"I'll take the season off. You shouldn't be alone like this."_

_"No you won't. It means too much to you. And what is this alone stuff? I have your mother, and my sisters. Not to mention the staff, and the midwife is staying in one of the guest rooms. Besides, I've done fine without you up till this point, I'll do fine from here on."_

_"You don't need me?"_

_"Not really, Fiyero. Stop standing over there and looking at the bed like it's going to attack you."_

_"I just-I can't believe this has happened."_

_"I would have thought you would be happy. Relieved at least."_

_He came over and laid down on the far side, staring up at the ceiling._

_"And here you are, being a bloody pain about it," she sighed in a long suffering way._

_He glanced over at her, and reached out a cautious hand. "Can I feel?"_

_"Why not? Everyone wants to. It's like I'm a circus freak. The Pregnant Lady! Come one, come all."_

_He put his hand there, and not caring what she said, laid his head on her swollen belly, trying to catch some inkling of what was going on inside._


	25. Chapter 25

_Two days after finding the fountain, Fiyero got around to meeting Avaric._

_"There is a place on Lower Mennipen that I think you would like," Avaric was saying._

_Fiyero looked up. He hadn't really been paying attention. "What?"_

_"It's not as nice as the Philosophy Club was but hey, if we wave our titles at the door, we should be able to get in for free."_

_"I'm not sure-"_

_But Avaric cut him off, "I mean, what is the point of having these silly titles if we don't use them to the fullest?"_

_"I'm sure I don't know."_

_"That was some night, yes? I've been back there a dozen or so times since, but that first one, well, that was almost magical." He winced. "Don't mind me, it's the ale talking. But really, it just about blew my mind. Among other things..." _

_"You went back!"_

_"You didn't."_

_"Once was enough, believe me. You know someone might have told me what I was getting into."_

_"Well, aren't we superior. Been taking lessons from Nellerose, have we?"_

_"Nessarose."_

_"Whatever. You should come. It might help you loosen up a little. Hire a girl or two."_

_"I'm going to be busy."_

_"And how would you know that? We haven't set a date."_

_"I'll make sure I'm busy."_

_Avaric rolled his eyes. "Point taken."_

_They finished the rest of the meal in silence while a measure of tension built around them._

* * *

They climbed out into the fading light several hours later, after Elphaba was beyond sure that they were safe.

Now she began to wonder if it had actually been soldiers in hot pursuit, or if it was just the product of Fiyero's damaged psyche? There was no questioning that he had been terrified in that cramped tunnel, and what could have merely been an uncomfortable situation had become a living nightmare.

Thinking more clearly, she had been half-panicked herself, she surmised it may have been a group of travellers passing through the area. It was too soon, even if they had been being watched. And what were the odds that it was the _same_ group that had tormented him for years? Even less likely.

But it had been real enough for him.

He stood still, by the abandoned cave, arms wrapped around himself.

She wondered, with great trepidation, what the experience had done to him. Was he to go pitching back to the very beginning all over again?

His arms dropped loosely to his sides as she came closer. She watched him taking several deep breaths, and shake it off all at once. She grabbed his hand, and ran hers up and down his arm. He started a little, but in realizing it was her, relaxed at once.

"Change of plans, Mo deas. They'll be looking for us well abroad. We'll backtrack through the Vinkus for a few days. Throw them off a little more."

She arrayed herself with a heavy veil and, leaving him sitting by a bitterbynde oak, approached a distant farmhold. She was greeted by a middle aged couple and in attempting the guise of an itinerant maunt passing from one cathedral to another, she pressed the case for hospitality. For old times sake, she introduced herself as Sister Saint Aelphaba.

"But I'm not traveling alone. There is a man, a patient of mine, who I am accompanying to the Cloister of Saint Glinda." She winced in anticipation and hoped they didn't see it beneath the veil. "He's been through a terrible trial and tends toward fragility," she said, touching the side of her head in a meaningful gesture. She hated it, for all the truth of the matter. But when the other woman looked concerned, she went on, hoping to calm their fears. "He is harmless, I assure you. It's just that we would be better placed perhaps in your hayloft?"

She bartered a meal and a few supplies off their hosts, before going to fetch him.

He went through everything with a sort of mindless commitment. She watched and felt her heart growing heavy. She lit the oil lamp and sat up late into the night, keeping her hand on his shoulder.

Much later he finally spoke. "I once found a fountain in Emerald City. At first I thought it was a nymph, but it turned out to be just a beautiful woman." He corrected himself, "Not just a beautiful woman. She was every woman, everything that could possibly be attractive in one. I mean, everything, the craftmanship, the quality of stone, the artist's vision, and of course, aesthetically pleasing. She was proud, fierce, regal, elegant."

"Voluptous, debauch, inebriated..."

He ignored her. "Fae, you had to see it...She was shy and alluring. Completely intoxicating. But she was strong, you could tell she was just tough as nails, but soft at the same time. Whoever designed her cut her from jade." He paused before adding, "She reminded me of you."

She scoffed. "Well of course, she _was green_."

"That's not what I meant Fae."

It was quiet for a few minutes. "Are you okay, Fiyero?"

More silence and finally, "Yeah. I think so."


	26. Chapter 26

(Like anyone would be, I am flattered by your fascination with me)

_Elphaba slid the bolt in place after all but throwing Fiyero out onto the streets. She hesitated for just a moment._

_What game was **he** about? Acting like they were the best of friends, when she could only remember them having spoken only a handful of times. And he was carrying on like this had been some great emotional reunion._

_She supposed that despite all appearances he might be just a little bit lonely. And after all she had always found him to be a little endearing, in a maddening, annoying sort of way._

(Like any hot-blooded woman, I have simply wanted an object to crave)

_The way he had grabbed her hand, after accepting his cape from her. And the look he gave her in that moment. The way her face flushed with sudden heat, and how her blood chilled._

(But you, you're not allowed. You're uninvited. An unfortunate slight)

_But this was ridiculous. If it were Boq, now that might be understandable. She and the little Munchkinlander had been thick as thieves back in those days. Fiyero, on the other hand, had no reason to act that way._

_And even if it had been Boq, she still would have turned him away. Boq, however, never would have followed her like that. The nerve!_

_But nevermind all that. She had a job to do and she couldn't afford the distraction. That's all it would be after all. A distraction. Best if he forgot her, and her him. _

_Still it had been nice to have a normal conversation..._

(Must be strangely exciting to watch the stoic squirm)

_"I would have been in her thrall even more than I am."_

_"Such a bad thing?"_

_"You're not married, you don't know: Yes, a bad thing."_

_"I am married. Just not to a man."_

(Must be somewhat heartening to watch shepherd need shepherd)

_He had come up behind her, putting his arms around her, saying something forgettable. The whole thing took her completely by surprise. _

_She protested. She couldn't. She must not...Oh, but her arms and legs had a mind of their own._

_It was cockeyed, going on in an ass-backwards way. How **she **forced **him** against the wall and pinned him there, taking what she wanted, needed, by force. But he didn't seem to mind._

_Later on, they lay together on her threadbare blankets, the moonlight drifitng through the sky light, spilling over their naked forms. He played with her earlobe, sucking on it, nibbling a little._

_This was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to come back. He shouldn't be here. Why didn't he listen? She should make him go, right now. And then pack up and disappear again._

_But all she could think about was how good it felt for him to do that._

(But you you're not allowed. You're uninvited. An unfortunate slight)

_The bag of flour slipped from her hands, sending more than what was needed spilling across the counter. Grinning like an idiot he wrote their names in the mess. She rolled her eyes, annoyed by this silly sentiment. _

_It could be sweet. It might be. If you liked that sort of thing._

(Like any uncharted territory, I must seem greatly intriguing)

_"You are not like her. You don't feel like her, it doesn't feel the same. You're more secret."_

_Like she wanted to know. She closed her eyes, fell back onto her bedroll. "I don't exist, so you're still not being unfaithful, either."_

_"Lets not be unfaithful right now then. I can't wait," he mumbled in reply. _

_She could already feel her skin growing hot with anticipation and excitement. Her body trembled beneath his fingers, his hands, whatever else. A premature moan, her eyes fluttering beneath their lids._

(You speak of my love like you have experienced love like mine before)

_She would often follow him during the day. Some great tracker he proved to be, not even noticing when he was being trailed. The thought jolted her heart. What if the Wizard's men were keeping tabs on him? He might not even realize._

_Exactly the reason she shouldn't have allowed this. It shouldn't have progressed this far. Now he would be impossible to get rid of. _

_She should have never let him into her home, her life, her heart. They could use him to get at her._

(But this is not allowed. You're uninvited. An unfortunate slight)

_He stood there, in the middle of a stone gazebo, staring up at the fresco splattered across its ceiling._

_Did he really have nothing better to do?_

_He looked around, as if he had sensed her, somehow feeling his lover across the courtyard._

_Damn that was just like him. He would have said something like that. Giddy foolishness. He was rubbing off on her._

_At any rate, she ducked back, drawing her hood down over her face._

_But he hadn't seen her, and went back to studying the painting._

(I don't think you unworthy. I need a moment to deliberate)

* * *

"What happened," she said, starting.

"You fell asleep. Sounds like I'm not the only one who talks in their sleep," he told her laughing softly.

She flushed with embarassment. "What did I say?"

"Was kidding Fae-Fae."

She sat up, trying to regain her bearings. Of course, they were still in the Vinkus. Here, laying together on this old blanket, in the midst of a grass plain, like that it was the most natural thing ever.

"Almost makes it worth it. This is very nice," he continued.

She settled back. "I know, I could get used to it," she agreed, sliding her arm under his shirt, bringing it to rest atop his heart. She put her head down there and sighed with contentment. "We should just stay here. Wandering the Vinkus, until the end of time. Would be the stuff of fancies."

"Our very own fairy tale. Sounds romantic."

She scoffed, teasing. "Exactly the sort of nonsense you would fall for."

"Oh well..."

She fell back asleep for a time, waking eventually to the rustle of movement. She sat up again, just as quickly.

There was no mistaking it now. She was looking right at one of the Wizard's soldiers. They stared at each other for several seconds, neither able to move.

He recovered first and made to reach for his musket.

"_Please_," she said softly.

The man blinked in surprise. His hand froze midway to the gun. Making up his mind, he nodded slightly at her and backed away.

She could hardly believe the luck. But would he change his mind? Was it a trick? They couldn't afford to put much stock in the mercy of such a man. She shook him awake.

"What's going on," he mumbled groggily.

"Worry about that later. We have to go _now_."

He started to gather the blanket.

"No time for that. Just come on," she said, already dragging him along behind her as she ran.

"Fae, can you just explain?"

But what ever answer she might have given was drowned out by the retort of guns. She ducked her head in reflex, and nearly stumbled. She swore loudly.

The thunder of hooves, and another noise rose along with the shooting. But before she could place it, or even attempt to, a spear struck the ground barely two feet in front of her.

"It's Princess Nastoya," Fiyero gasped, trying to catch his breath, when she stopped abruptly.

"I don't care who. We're in trouble now."

"No, it's okay. They're the Scrow. They can be friends."

A dozen or so spears were being thrust at them at this point. "They don't look friendly," she told him. But at least from the sound of things they were keeping the soldiers busy.


	27. Chapter 27

"Fae, can you just sit down? I can hear you moving. It's making me dizzy. And it's giving me a headache," Fiyero told her.

"Sorry," she said, hastily. She wrung her hands, pacing some more. "I don't like this. It feels like we're prisoners."

"We're guests of the Scrow."

"Guests? Hah!"

"This isn't like being a prisoner," he said mildly.

She cringed, mortified suddenly by her poor choice of words. But he looked unconcerned. He was focused on the trappings laid out for them. "Nice. They really went out of their way for us," he said pushing down on one of the bedrolls.

"It might be a plush prison, but if we can't leave."

"Ah, Fae-Fae, why so suspicious? Not everyone has an ulterior motive. The Scrow can be our friends, if we are their friends. Just relax and enjoy the day."

"Yes, why don't I just put my head back, that way they can slit my throat."

He sighed and decided to ignore her. One could get used to this, if only she would allow it.

* * *

_Fiyero found himself nodding off. Three days had gone by since that crucial breaking point. Three days of no sleep, in which he was subject to constantly being grilled for information, now that he would talk. He had exhausted his supply of information and himself in the the process._

_It was impossible now to concentrate on their questioning at this point. The desire to sleep overwhelmed any other thoughts. His head bobbed as he fell asleep._

_A few minutes passed. One of them slammed the fat end of a wedge down on his hand. He jerked away, snatching it back, gasping and choking,__ too stunned to cry out. Clutching it to his chest, he tried to move the fingers, but couldn't, and the pain flared up again._

_"Where is Lady Chuffrey," someone demanded angrily._

_This was new. Something had happened to Glinda? "I don't-"_

_"Really, I don't know why you're doing this," Jemmsy could be heard to say. "It really be much easier on you if you would just tell us where she is."_

_"I don't know," he said, buying for time. "I don't know where she is. I wasn't involved."_

_"He's lying," the angry one said. "Where's Lady Chuffrey? If you weren't involved what were you doing there? Explain that."_

_"What's the point of this? Just tell him what happened to Lady Glinda."_

_He struggled to make sense of this. It was Glinda, how could Elphie hurt her? Or be involved with people who would? He remembered what Elphie had said about the society dame being a living portrait and therefore not a 'real' person...but it was Glinda. Annoying yes, but she was their friend. Or had been anyway. But as tired as he was and with the way his hand was throbbing, it was nearly impossible to think straight very long. "I don't know," he repeated desperatly._

_Jemmsy made an irritated noise. "Come on, be decent about this. Think of her husband. He's beside himself with worry. And with his age, with his heart the way it is...surely you must have some compassion."_

_The other one barked a derisive laugh._

_"She's been missing for over a week. Of course, you weren't directly involved but we know that you have been in contact with your cell, despite our best efforts. Tell us what you know," Jemmsy said, almost pleading with him._

_"But I don't know anything. Lady Glinda was my friend."_

_"Your friend! And you let your people kidnap her in her very own home. That's sick." The other one spat at him._

_"Just tell us the truth, and I'll get some ice for that. Why'd you that to yourself anyway? It wasn't very smart," Jemmsy said reprovingly. _

_"What," he asked, bewildered. _

_"Broke your fingers. You keep hurting yourself. I don't understand. People might start thinking you've gone mad."_

_"I...," he mumbled, even more confused now. Terrorized by the grueling interrogation, debilitated and in considerable pain, he was inclined to believe it. He began to break down again. The tears stung the sensitive skin, seemingly igniting it anew. "I don't know where she is."_

_"I thought you were better than this. All this time I've been protecting you. You won't even tell me one little thing. Not even to spare an elderly man further grief, or at least give him a sense of closure. You're being completely unreasonable. My generosity only extends so far. I'm beginning to think you may be taking advantage of my good will," Jemmsy said, sounding disappointed._

_"I am telling the truth. I haven't been in contact with anyone. I don't know anything about Lady Chuffrey."_

_"Listen to me-"_

_"I don't know," he tried again._

_"I said listen! These people that you're so dead-set on protecting, they don't give a damn about you. They're out there, running free, blowing things up, terrorizing people in their homes, on the streets. And here you are, rotting away in a filthy cell. Lucky for you that you have me to take care of you. Do you think that anyone else here has it so good?"_

_"Put him in the pit. That ought to loosen his tongue," the other man said. A pause, and he added, laughing a little, "That is if he still had one."_

_"Now lets not get carried away. I can get him to talk." _

_"Oh please, I can't go back in there," he begged them._

_But they both ignored him. _

_"You have been trying," the other one snarled. He seized Fiyero roughly by the arm, hauling him to his feet._

_"Please, no. I don't know about Glinda. I swear, I don't," he said, near panic._

_It was only a closet, but he wouldn't know the difference. Between the two of them they were able to force him inside and close the door._

_Jemmsy leaned lazily against the door, paying little attention to the sounds on the other side of it._

_"You're a monster," his partner, Ervic, said grinning broadly._

_"Hey, I am the best," he agreed with pride._

_The prisoner was saying something, no doubt begging for his release, but it was too muffled to understand. After a few minutes, he fell back into wild sobbing and started pounding on the door. _

_Jemmsy winced. It just had to hurt, with that mangled hand and all. He shrugged, nothing he could really do about it. _

_"And Lady Chuffrey?"_

_"Oh well her...She's alive and well, far as I know." _

_"That's cruel. I would have never thought of that."_

_"That's why I made Minor Menacier in less than a year, and you still have graveyard patrol. But yes, it is. And it works everytime. Get them so turned around they can't see straight." A few minutes of quiet, aside from the prisoner's pleadings, which was starting to get very annoying. "Have you seen that new play Tristan und Isolde, at the Lady's Mystique? Apparently the Wizard brought it from his own world, if you believe in other worlds. Thats what they say anyway. Brilliant stuff, though."_

_"Not my style."_

_"Your loss."_

_"Maybe. I think its been long enough."_

_"Your probably right." And with that Jemmsy opened the closet door. The prisoner fell out, hitting the floor hard. _

_Ervic snatched him up, and pushed him to the wall. Jemmsy handed him one of the irons, which he beat against the wall, right next to the prisoner's body. "Where is Lady Chuffrey?"_

_"I told you I don't know. It wasn't me. It was Elphaba. I was never involved." _

_"You're a damn liar." Ervic struck the wall again, bellowing, "Tell us."_

_"You better do what he says," Jemmsy insisted._

_

* * *

_Fiyero woke to the now familiar state of abject fear and confusion. Firelight danced dimly in the corner of his scope. That didn't seem right.

"You were having a nightmare," Fae said quietly.

"Where am I?" This clearly wasn't their tent.

"I fell asleep. When I woke up, you had already gone." It seemed she was about to say more but stopped herself.

"What is it, Fae," he demanded, now a little annoyed.

"You were shouting and crying in your sleep," she said cautiously. "I didn't know what to do."

"And I just walked all the way out here, while doing those things?"

"Yes," she said in a tiny voice.

"Ah, so the madman makes a spectacle of himself."

"Oh, my heart, don't talk like that."

"But its true. I've certainly put on a show for them, haven't I?"

"Lets go back to out tent. Please, we'll talk about it tomorrow." She grabbed his hand and made to lead him away.

But he refused. "Stop acting like everything is okay. This is not normal behavior, Fae."

"Well, in erratic behavior we are well-matched. Come on, you're tired. I can see it."

"Tired of this maybe. But no, I don't need to sleep."

"Well I do," she pointed out. "But I won't be going back by myself. So you might as well come too. In the morning, okay? It happened, yes, nothing can change that now. I promise, we'll talk about it then."

"Fine," he sighed.

Back inside their tent, she made him sit down, and curled herself around him. "Look, I know you're upset. But it's already done. Worrying yourself about it all night, won't change that or make it better. Try and go back to sleep."

"No, probably not," he agreed reluctantly. But one more thing was bothering him. "What happened to Glinda?"

"What do you mean?"

"The last few weeks I was there...they said that your cell had kidnapped her."

She didn't answer for awhile. "Fiyero, don't you remember? When Crope found you, Glinda was with him. She's fine, nothing happened to her."

"So...it was just a lie," he said, having trouble getting the words out. "It was just a sick game of theirs," now raising his voice a little.

"Now you see?"

He shook his head in disbelief. Then he started to laugh. That same deranged laughing and sobbing as when he had... He couldn't help himself, the ignominy of it was unbearable.

"Stop it," Fae cried.

He realized he was probably scaring her. So he forced himself to stop right away.


	28. Chapter 28

How to go on? Could there be such a thing as complete recovery? True, just a few days ago he had known contentment, something like serenity; not even a few days, but the very morning before. But those were mild emotions, nothing like actual happiness. He sighed inwardly, wondering again if he still had the capacity for pleasure of any kind.

He didn't want to sleep. Sleeping brought the memories, whether they held the horrors of his incarceration, or of older joys and sorrows; the former filling him with fear, the latter with emptiness and a resounding lack. He would rather just forget it all.

He felt emasculated, and possibly _worse: _apathetic. As surely as if they had castrated him in those barracks, he felt incapcitated.

For her part, Sarima had always made him feel incompetent.

Not a man; not even human. He sighed miserably.

He sat up. He couldn't sleep, even if he wanted to. Also, there was the fear that if he did, it might lead to some other foolishness on his part.

But all of this restless tossing and turning was disturbing Fae.

He held his head in his hands, wiping some sweat from his brow. Another deep sigh.

She sat up too, a few minutes later, lacing an arm around him and laying her head on his shoulder. He touched her hand, glad for her presence. She didn't say a word, nothing needed to be said anyway, and he was also glad for her silence.

"I feel so empty, Fae. I just don't know what to do."

* * *

"Morning, my love," she whispered.

He furrowed his brow, surprised that he had actually managed to sleep and that it had been mercifully dreamless. He yawned and stretched his limbs.

"Your little nocturnal sojourn drew some notice," she said, trying to keep any accusation out of her voice. "We've been invited to an audience with Princess Nastoya, herself." A slight hesitation. "Are you certain the Scrow are friends?"

"If we are friends, why?"

"You've been recognized. They know you are the missing Arjiki prince. I wonder what they will do."

"Probably call me to account for my absence. If it weren't obvious."

"Lets go," she said, taking his hand.

* * *

He was more nervous than he let on. He felt the weight of the Princess' gaze pushing down on him, judging him. He tried to distract himself by thinking of Fae, and how she must feel to see the odd circumstances. Out here in the Vinkus, an Animal queen presiding over a tribe of human beings. To be sure, the Elephant herself was impressive enough. Though he had never met her before now, and only heard stories.

"Lord Tigelaar," someone spoke. Now that was a voice he recognized. Shem Ottokos, from Shiz, now nearly a decade passed.

Princess Nastoya spoke, a deep rumbling, like a procession of tympani drums and Ottokos translated. "The Lady acknowledges that you have been indisposed."

"Against my will," he confessed.

"Ostensibly," was the reply. "Our resident bedlamite, brought before us."

It stung, despite having already believed it of himself. Staggered him even, hearing it rise from someone else's lips. He bowed his head in shame, in remorse. And protested, though he knew it to be a lie, "I am not crazy."

Nastoya spoke, again, through Ottokos. "Not mad, no. But certainly not well."

He tried to speak, to reply, just say something but the words just fell apart.

So she went on. "The others hear your screams in the night. But my ears are more capable. There is chaos in your mind and heart. _I _hear you screaming even now."

What to say? What to do? She was tearing him open right here.

"Like yourself, the house of Kiamo Ko has fallen into great disrepair."

"I'm not fit to rule anymore. I can't help them. I can't do anything for them. How can I be responsible for them, if I can't even take care of myself anymore?" He stopped talking, he couldn't say anymore.

"I am his keeper. Of a fashion," Fae said, diverting their attention. "Lord Tigelaar has long been a guest of our Glorious Wizard, and has experienced his supreme kindness personally. Give credit where credit is due."

The Elephant laughed deeply at Fae's rebuke. And with that Fiyero found himself dismissed. He was taken back to their tent by a few Scrow and stayed there waiting for Fae.

* * *

"I'm not crazy," he told her when she got back.

"You don't need to tell me. But it is as she said. And it does neither of us any good to deny it from now on," she said, sounding tired.

"Fae...it's not true. I'm not."

"Fiyero, please don't make this any harder."

Again he was at a loss for words.

But then she relented and came over to him. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

He shook his head miserably and turned it away.

"It does not have to be all that bad," she said, touching his face.

"It's my life, Fae."

"Tell me what I must do. How can I make you feel better?" It was crude, she knew, but maybe it would work? She kissed him softly. "Want to feel something, Fiyero? Maybe I can help with that," she whispered, kissing him again. "Let me help you."

She took one of his hands in hers and trailed her fingers across. She rubbed the back of it, feeling where it had been broken again and again, never once given proper healing. She lifted the other and continued to caress them. Too late for that, they were disfigured now. She struggled with anger bor a few seconds, seeing this again. She kissed the back of them, and then his fingers.

She closed his eyes with her fingertips. And then pushing his hair away kissed his lids, and then the burned skin around them. "I love you. More than anything."

He resisted now. Turned his head to the side. "No, no, I can't," he told her, but she cut him off, as she had done before, with another kiss.

"Shh...enough about that now," she breathed in his ear. "Let me take care of you."

"No Fae, this is all wrong."

"We won't know until we try..."

She lifted his tunic over his head, and tossed it away. Did the same with hers. Letting her arm slide around his back, stopping it between his shoulder blades, pushing him down and back, gently but inexorably.

He let out a shuddering breath. She leaned down a little, sliding her hands across his bare chest. Then pressing herself down on him. "Remember when I told you to trust me?"

"Yes, but Fae, I can't," almost whining now.

"Then now just trust me. You'll be okay. I'll take care of you," she told him.

In the dim light of a few candles they moved together.

She cut into him, just as she had done before, like the lancing of a wound, not to maim but to allow further healing. _A seamstress_, he thought again. One more piece of the puzzle slipped back into place.


	29. Chapter 29

_Shagric banged on the door. Again. Fiyero ignored him. _

_"You've been in there all night. You do this **every **night."_

_Not every night. Sometimes it was morning._

_"What in Oz are you doing in there? The dark skin of yours won't wash away, I don't think."_

_Fiyero ignored him some more, ducking his head under the water._

_"Other people like to bathe, you know."_

_Fiyero might as well have been deaf._

_Summer in the Thousand Year Grasslands. Water was scarce, and when it could be found, inspired a sort of communal bath. These were done in great haste and considerable awkwardness and/or mortification, because few women, if any, did not partake in the hunt._

_Winter in the Great Kells, running water was readily available but even in Kiamo Ko lacked heating facilities. It had to painstakingly boiled and by the time the basin was full, it would be lukewarm at best._

_But here all he had to do was turn the knob and it was **always** hot. He would let it fill up and just sit there until it had cooled. Sometimes going through this three or four times in a row._

_He loved it, not just the bath, not even just Ozma Towers, but the whole of Shiz._

_There was no terminally dissatisfied Sarima. No disapproving and accusing Two. And the rest of them, descending on, and swarming all over him like a plague of locusts._

_And best of all, it seemed even Chieftain Tigelaar had been left behind too. Here he was just Fiyero._

_He had been slow in coming to this conclusion. The only thing that was expected of him was just to attend and pass his classes. No constant pressure of authority, no endless duties, no burden of responsibilities._

_And what was more, these people actually seemed to like him. His father hadn't been all that concerned about his making friends, sometimes even encouraging the other boys to ignore him. Fear and the respect it inspired where more important than camaraderie. So under the weight of his father's shadow, he had gone along mostly alienated._

_His new friends didn't know about that._

_He knew now that in some ways he was older than them. Already married, well-versed in the leadership role, etc. But in many others he was much, much younger._

_The Vinkus was a bubble, and the Kells all the more so. He knew there was an outside world, but it had never really touched him before. And now he was fully immersed in it. It was scary and exciting and very, very new._

_Shagric kicked on the door, hard, bringing Fiyero out of his thoughts. _

_"Alright," he called, finally relenting. He pulled out the plug and clamored out._

_He fell asleep the next morning, out in the usual haunting grounds by the Suicide Canal, laying his head on the open page of a compendium of the Ozma line, leading all the way to the vanished Tippetarius._

_The book was suddenly pulled out from underneath him, startling him to wakefullness. He sat up and looked around sleepily. _

_Elphaba had done it, of course it was her. _

_He suddenly wished he hadn't worn the djellaba this morning; it being the customary pale yellow. He drew his knees up as if trying to make himself smaller._

_"Surely, this is not required reading in Ozma Towers curriculum? How unfortunate for you if it is. Must be frighteningly dull."_

_"I wanted to know," he said simply. _

_She looked a little taken aback. "But this is...so boring. The Ozmas?"_

_"Oh you are a fine one to talk, with all that prattling nonsense on 'What is evil?'," Glinda said, flouncing around them a bit, before flopping gracelessly in the grass. _

_"She has a point, you know," Avaric said, surprising them all, and especially himself, "he did fall asleep reading it."_

_"I was up all night. Reading it," Fiyero told them._

_Boq pushed himself into the conversation. "I wonder what its like, being in Ozma Towers."_

_Elphaba cut in, before Fiyero could speak. "Well, we can **all** guess. I mean it **is** the top of the line. Its the school to be in, the elite. Despite his apparent cluelessness, he's probably got us all beat in the brains department. He'd have to, or he wouldn't be there. And being from the Vinkus, he probably had to work twice as hard. Money won't buy one's way in."_

_Avaric looked around at her, his eyes narrowing. "Was that aimed at me?"_

_Elphaba looked him in the eye and said with heavy irony, "Never."_

_Boq rushed ahead to fend off confrontation. "So is it true? Do you guys really all have private rooms?"_

_"Yes, but the baths are paired off."_

_"Still," Boq said whistling a little._

_"If I should be so lucky. Oh well now Glinda, don't look at me so. I **do enjoy our** quality time. I am just saying that we, as females, are not allowed the same luxury of the finest schools," Elphaba said._

_"That may be changing," Boq interjected. "Classes are becoming coed. And not only that," he said, nodding at Fiyero, "they're accepting Winkies now."_

_Elpahaba looked ready to explode. "Don't call him that!"_

_Boq shrunk back a little and muttered an apology. Fiyero looked between the two of them, confused, while Glinda turned pale and Avaric, being Avaric, just looked bored. Elphaba was quite beside herself._

_"Oh I don't mind," Fiyero said softly, though still not sure what this was all about._

_"That's because you don't know what it means," she snapped at him._

_"Really, now, he said he doesn't care," Avaric told her._

_"Well I do," Glinda said forcefully. "I am a lady, you know. And I won't hear that sort of language. And frankly I am offended for him."_

_Elphaba looked surprised and impressed with her. But then she turned on Fiyero. "And you! What's the matter with you? Drop that asinine 'I'm so shy' routine and just grow a pair, already!" She stalked away from the group, looking nearly murderous. _

_They were all quiet for sometime in her wake. But Fiyero finally turned to Boq. "Why is she always so mean to me?"_

_"Me and Elphie go way back," Boq told him. "If you stick around long enough, you'll figure out that that's how you know she likes you. Believe me, that was a compliment coming from Elphie." _

_Glinda nodded her agreement. "This is true."_

_Boq glanced at Avaric. "Except I think, she actually **does** hate you."_

_"The feeling is mutual."_

_"So I've noticed." Boq sighed and shook his head._

_Fiyero ignored them the rest of the time. He could still see Elphaba from here. He thought about approaching her again, but changed his mind, deciding to let her cool down first. _

_

* * *

_

_(Notes: Shagric Mann, the kid at the door is an Ozian staple from the original set, wiki him if you will. Djellabas are desert robes, commonly worn in the Mediterranean and parts of North Africa. Pale colors mark a married status, and yellow was traditionally the color of Winkies in aformentioned original novels, I always try to dress Fiyero in it. Also, in the Wicked scheme of things, in case you didn't know, Winkie is a serious insult, thus Elphaba's wrath near the end.)_


	30. Chapter 30

High-summer in the Grasslands. The heat was brutal and the clan retired under a likely enough cluster of sprawling spiderspines. Lazing across low branches, high reaching roots and rocky crags, from a distance they could almost be taken for a pride of lions. Almost.

A low rumble of thunder roused a few of them from their heat laden stupor. But some of them merely grunted and shifted going back to sleep.

Three of the boys rushed out from their little sanctuary. The storm in the distance cast a grey-green haze. Even from this far the deluge could be seen.

Fiyero stuck his spear in the ground and leaned heavily on it. Watching as the tall grass bent and swayed as the wind whipped through, giving the illusion of the mythical sea. But there was no sea, only a vast impassable desert. To walk on the sands meant certain death.

The rain began to fall with earnest. The boys and now, other tribesmen lifted their hands, not in prayer, but to collect the rainwater for a welcome drink.

The storm drew up, a few tentative droplets fell on the boys' sunburnt skin, splashed and evaporated on the thirsty ground and battered the illogical blue-green grasses. Lightning split the sky, danced across the flat plain. Birds took flight, startled from their nests. Thunder roared, shook the ground.

It fell heavier now. The clansmen huddled underneath their desert robes. The temperature dropped and they shivered in the cold and wet. It was miserable though Fiyero hadnt yet learned how to be miserable and so was happy with his lot.

The maelstrom subsided, but inexplicably, the sky turned red-gold as if in the wake of the setting sun. But the rain still fell. The clansmen grew restless. The elders cast grave looks on the horizon and grumbled among themselves about the meaning of this. The younger men reacted with something like pleasurable excitement and the boys looked on with mingled fear and excitement. The reason for all this made itself known in due course.

The storm had sparked a brush fire and the wildlife would be running mad to escape the flames. Presenting the perfect oppurtunity to make a glorious kill and join the clan in uninhibited revelry or to meet with hideous death and send the clan into abject grieving.

The clan seized the moment. They disappeared into the grass, as if they had never been, as if winking out of existence. Maybe that was where the nasty nickname came from.

Much later, Fiyero was at work skinning and gutting a carcass. His knife sliced through flesh and muscle. A grim faced older man moved past the boy and Fiyero looked up, smiling at him, while engaged in this work. In his limited experience it never occured to him that his father's methods were or even could be wrong. To him this man was just Father, and his word was law and even when his cruelty was aimed at him, Fiyero went on loving him to near worship, simply not knowing any better.

Here, his world was at its smallest. This was before the army barracks where he had learned despair and pointless brutality. Before Emerald City where he had experienced true love and the fear and humility it inspired along with its joyful abandon. In Shiz, where he had learned the gift of friendship and of his own strangeness and the prejudice it wrought. And most of all before Sarima, who taught him personal failure and inadequacy.

* * *

Shem Ottokos pushed his way through the tent opening not waiting for an invitation. He started to address the two of them but then stared around in confusion. "Where is Lord Tigelaar?"

The green woman lifted her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh, he is around somewhere." Her voice went up an octave on the last word and suddenly Ottokos understood. His mouth twitched in amusement and he decided to linger longer than what was necessary.

"The Princess Nastoya has extended her welcome indefintely. Lord Tigelaar may call this home as long as he wishes. As a show of our hospitality, the Princess would like offer what resources we have. There are capable healers among our tribe. There is even a witch woman who believes she can cure him of his blindness. Perhaps you would wish to relay the message? "

"Sure," she said quickly.

Ottokos made as if to make himself more comfortable, leaning against one of the support poles. "Would you like a refreshment?"

"No, no." She arched a little upward and couldn't stifle a moan from escaping. Even in the dim shadows of the tent, Ottokos could see how her color was rising.

Someone was calling his name. He sighed, he was enjoying watching her squirm. They called again more insistently. He swore and went out.

Elphaba was glad to see the back of him. "Oh you cad, you're enjoying this, I think."

"Of course I am," came the muffled reply. Fiyero stuck his head out from underneath the sheets. "I can't help it. You're the one who went an opened the can of worms." He wiped his face with his sleeve.

"Oh that's attractive," she said wryly.

He shrugged and repositioned himself between her legs and slid forward. She grunted with the effort. He kissed her neck, as he rocked back and forth. Moving slowly, as if to avoid hurting her, though he struggled to keep himself in check.

Finally, the Beautiful Moment arrived and he sighed his ecstacy.

He relaxed, laying across her body though shockwaves of sweet agony continued to shake him.

"I die from this. You are killing me with feeling." Another shuddering moan.

"Are we complaining?"

He gave her a sleepy smile "I die happy"


	31. Chapter 31

_(I will be the answer a__t the end of the line/__I will be there for you w__hile you take the time/__In the burning of uncertainty __I will be your solid ground/__I will hold the balance i__f you can't look down)_

"You think I'm ridiculous," he said. When she didn't answer he elaborated. "Something so..."

"Vulgar?"

He sighed in agreement. "Yes, something so vulgar can be the cure for what ails me."

"Who am I to judge," she said mildly. She shifted closer. "You've been through a lot. And I've been at this for awhile. My time as a nurse in the Mauntery taught me plenty about people. It wasn't just the sex, you needed. I know that much."

"Enlighten me, because I don't really have a clue."

"Well, first, what ever issues you had they were all in here," she said, touching his temple. "You keep saying you can't, you can't but it seems like everytime, you've done quite well."

He shrugged.

"Now I don't know, but I can guess, it was the emotional aspect of it, maybe you felt unwhole? Like there was something missing but you didn't know what?"

"A capacity for feeling. I felt numb. Like there could be no joy."

_(If it takes my whole life I won't break, I won't bend/It will all be worth it, worth it in the end/Cause I can only tell you what I know/That I need you in my life/When the stars have all gone out you'll still be burning so bright)_

She waited for a long time. "Fiyero?"

"Yes?"

"You're never going back there. We're safe with the Scrow, now. And after awhile, we'll leave again for somewhere else that is safe. They'll never be able to find you and take you back to that place. It won't be perfect, but we'll be alright."

Now he was quiet for several minutes. "It's really over, isn't it?"

"It is, you're completely safe. Like you said, the Scrow are friends."

"I never really- Sometimes, I'm afraid that this is a dream and I'll wake up again in that damn cell, and that kid will come back in and haul me off to something worse than the day before. And he was just a kid, to think of what they put him to work doing."

"You feel sorry for him? _For him_," she asked, incredulous.

"He didn't get that way on his own," he said simply.

_(Cast me gently i__nto morning f__or the night has been unkind/__Take me to a pl__ace so holy t__hat I can wash this from my mind, t__he memory of choosing not to fight)_

She shook her head bewildered and changed the subject back. "But you feel better now?"

He hestitated. "I don't know. Maybe. We might have to work at it some more."

"Cheeky bastard," she said, slapping him on the arm, playfully.

He laughed softly. "But yes, I am better, I think."

"That's wonderful to hear. How far we've come..."

He paused, took a deep breath and said, "I want you to tell me. Everything Fae."

She sighed, working out how to start. "I found you, what? Six or seven months ago? You were very sick. Firelung, they called it. I was so scared. I thought you would die before you could come to grips with your freedom. And also, I had just found out you were alive. You were suffering under the fever and very confused. You kept begging me and the others to kill you but at the same time you refused to die. Eventually the fever broke but you didn't get any better. You left for awhile, and I almost couldn't stand it. You weren't even there, Fiyero."

"Like you said, that's over now," he told her.

She went on, "Eventually, you started to come out of it. But you would be this angry person, or this sad, lost one. Oh, my love, you were so broken they seemed like other people. And then you would retreat back into yourself and there would be no reaching you."

_(If it takes my whole life __I won't break, I won't bend/__It will all be worth it, w__orth it in the end/__'Cause I can only tell you what I know/__That I need you in my life/__When the stars have all burned out y__ou'll still be burning so bright)_

"Even when things were at their worst, I held on to your memory. I had to have something, otherwise I would have died that first week in prison."

She didn't know what to say, so she changed the subject. "The translator, I'm sure you heard. He said something about someone might be able to heal your eyes."

"They were burned out, Fae. I don't imagine that it will be something easily undone. Besides my sight isn't completly gone. I can make due."

"But wouldnt you like to be able to see well again? Fiyero, just think of it."

"It sounds nice," he agreed.

"But what," she asked, sensing the unspoken doubt in his voice.

He shrugged. "Her methods maybe. We Arjikis are no more sophisticated than the next creature but we do draw the line somewhere. It might make things worse. "

"It might," she agreed. "But I've been looking around and really paying attention. They really trust this woman and she seems to know what she's doing. And I know a thing or two from the Mauntery to be sure."

He sighed and still looked dubious.

She put her hands on either side of his face and touched her forehead to his. "It'll be alright, my sweet. We'll go and talk to her. And then you can make up your mind."

"Alright," he said, finally.

_(Cast me gently i__nto morning f__or the night has been unkind...)_


	32. Chapter 32

_Lyrics used so far : Metallica's Until it Sleeps (Chapter 10), Imaginary by Evanescence (Chapter 11), The Uninvited by Alanis Morissette (Chapter 26), The Answer by Sarah Mclachlan (Chapter 31), and here Alanis Morissette's Head over Feet. Maybe later Dido's Here with Me._

_The beginning takes place immediately after Chapter 8. Before I piss any one off with certain aspects, this is in part based off of some of my interpretation of what was going on behind the scenes in City of Emeralds, mainly Elphie's behavior regarding some things. I know that some of you may not like it, but there it is. That and something that Maguire allegedly said on the subject.__

* * *

_

_She set the boots down on her sallowwood table and stared at them for some time. Fiyero was watching her, she could feel it. She turned her head away, to look anywhere but that face, and those eyes._

(I had no choice but to hear you/You stated your case time and again/I thought about it)

_"Fae," he said._

_"This can't go on. It's gone to far. I should've never-" Her voice was strained. She couldn't keep the emotion out of it. She cleared her throat._

_"You want me to leave," he asked._

_She tried to speak but couldn't. She didn't trust in the steadiness of her voice anyway. She nodded wildly._

_"Look at me and say it. Fae!"_

_But she couldn't. And damn him. Now he was kissing the back of her hand. She cursed him under her breath. Who was he to make her this weak?_

(You treat me like I'm a princess/I'm not used to liking that/You ask how my day was)

_His kisses were fire and honey. He lifted her hair from her shoulder and admired it for a few minutes, before letting it fall down her back. He kissed her shoulder tenderly. __"You're tense. Too tense," he said, rubbing her shoulders and neck. "All worried about things that just don't matter."_

_"Why are you here," she tried again, now that she had found her voice._

_"Does it matter? Isn't it enough that I am?" His hands moved down her arms and from there to her waist._

_Her body trembled but now more from emotion rather than passion._

(You've already won me over in spite of me/And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet/Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are/I couldn't help it/It's all your fault)

_It was days before they would see each other again. He pulled open the skylight and light flooded the room._

_She looked up from her book, dazzled by the sudden brightness and also by his audacity. She had **told** him: Never in the light! She gathered herself to really lay into him but the words just died in her throat._

_His silhouette was turned black in the surplus of light and she couldn't look away._

(Your love is thick and it swallowed me whole/You're so much braver than I gave you credit for/That's not lip service)

_He held his hand out to her. She remained sitting where she was. She felt locked in place. He beckoned to her and she finally was able to stand. The blanket slid from her naked body and fluttered to the floor. But her feet wouldn't lift._

_She managed to shuffle forward a bit, sliding her feet across the wooden planks. _

_The light fell on the glass oval and as she moved into its spectrum, blinded her with its kaleidescope of color. It broke her free from the spell and she crossed to room, not to him but to it._

_Images of Shiz replayed in its depths. The wonderful Charmed Circle. She looked on, riveted._

_He sidled up to her and looked as well, but she knew he didn't see what she saw. She went to turn to him and ignore it but one more thing caught her attention. The reflection of a carp, floating by itself. She cried out in alarm, and snatched it up only to fling it out of her sight._

_"What is it," he asked, startled and bewildered by her behavior._

_But what to say? How to explain? Besides she may have been overreacting. That couldn't have been that hag, Madame Morrible, could it? She shook her head. Silly, she was being silly. She surrendered herself to his affections._

(You've already won me over in spite of me/And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet/Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are/I couldn't help it/It's all your fault)

_He came bringing gifts. The scarves, the shawl, those silly boots, the moonstone necklace. She didn't understand him, it maddened her. Her head was fairly spinning._

_In the five years she had been in Emerald City, she used what little charm she had to further her career. Men surely had needs, and repugnant as she was, she could surely service those needs. _

_And so she began this little foray as she began all of them._

_He was a prince, he had some power and prestige. She could and would use it to further her cause. Fiyero would certainly be useful, she decided. With him in thrall to her feminine wiles (hah!) she could make good with the cell. A Prince, with his wealth and influence. No doubt she would earn a exalted position on the inside._

_He looked at her, in the midst of her campaign against him and tilted his head slightly, giving her a weird little smirk. The implication was clear: He would not be a tool. Her nostrils flared, she stopped talking and flushed with anger. __But in doing so, he proved incomprehensible. Despite his apparent weak-willed nature he wouldn't allow himself to be manipulated or bullied by her opinions. And for all his foolishness, he was cannier than she anticipated and much to her ire wouldn't be tricked or otherwise was clearly sex-starved, why else would he be hanging on her bell all day? She could hardly be considered a froth of beauty._

_Latere, she went to her mirror and examined herself with it. There was the obvious, the sickening green, her sharp features, the lack of anything that **could** be considered attractive in a female. She scoffed and turned away from her reflection._

_Was there such a thing as love? And moreover, could she be loved? She shook her head in irritation. It was ridiculous in the extreme. Frex hadn't loved her, and Melena...well, she was Melena. And then poor unfortunate little Nessa. That was need, but not love, no not really._

_And Fiyero! She scoffed again. He was a handsome, fine-looking man, and a Prince to boot, why in Oz would he-how could he love her?_

_"Fiyero's capacity for evil is in believing too strenously in a capacity for good."_

_How very true. The idiot. That ridiculous love struck sap._

(You are the bearer of unconditional things/You held your breath and the door for me/Thanks for your patience)

_He would listen to her talk, and with apparent interest to what she had to say. Over the little things, the affairs of her distant family. The details of her childhood. Why did he care? Why should he? She thought back to the last time she had questioned his presence in her life._

_What did bring him to her door again and again? She paused in her reminscing and looked at him as if for the first time. He furrowed his brow and gave her a questioning look, as if to say, 'Why did you stop?'_

_Now, this **was** new. He had actually been listening, not just hearing but actually paying attention. . Those others- here she flushed with shame, felt her color rise, there had been so many, too many to count, Fiyero didn't need to know all that- they hadn't cared to hear, hadn't bothered to listen or ask. Not that she wanted them to._

(You're the best listener that I've ever met/You're my best friend/Best friend with benefits/What took me so long?)

_She failed. All that she worked for these past years had come to naught. Madame Morrible was still alive. Her feet carried her back to her loft. She didn't fight them, she simply had no will to argue._

_Fiyero...she would see him in the morning. She had told him to come. The thought of this made everything bearable._

_But she was angry with him. Of his influence. A few months ago, she wouldn't have hesitated. She would have struck down that hag, and school girls be damned._

_She sighed. She'd let him know in the morning. In the morning. When she saw him again. Or maybe not. Maybe she would just love him as usual, and not say a word. And then in her abject humiliation disappear back into the throng of humanity. He would have no choice but to go home then, back to the place he really belonged._

_She climbed the stairs, weary beyond words. Reached out to push open the door to the upstairs. Fiyero would stop by in the morning, she told herself again, and was able to draw out some comfort from the fact. The door swung open, slowly, creakingly, revealing the room beyond._

(I've never felt this healthy before/I've never wanted something rational/I am aware now)

_Blood, there was blood, and it was **everywhere**. She stared in shock. It soaked into the floorboards, was splashed up the very walls._

_And scarves, beautiful gilded scarves, strewn about the carnage. Scarves, like the scarf she was wearing right now, around her head. She ripped it off and let it fall, and lie there like the rest of them. There could be no mistaking what had happened here and she was meant to see it and to understand._

_"__Can there_ be grief, regret, in _your exalted circle_? Is _there_ any such thing as a mistake? Is _there_ a _concept of tragedy_?" His words came back to her tormenting her.

_She screamed, staggering forward, and falling. Her hands slipped in one of the pools, splashing up to the wrists._

_The looking glass. It pulled at her again, summoning her to it. She couldn't look away, though she tried._

_Fiyero standing in a reflecting pool, drawing haughty looks, staring blithely up at the centerpiece. And...and...a carp fluttering at his feet._

_She screamed. She shrieked. She begged at his reflection, forgetting that this was already past, begging and pleading with him to look down and make the connection._

_But **she** hadn't made the connection. She failed to see that they had been watching him all along. _

_She ran, never once looking back. Again, her feet carried her where they would. She found herself at the Chapel of Saint Glinda, where he had first found her again. Hardly aware of herself, hardly recognizing the place. She collapsed in the corner and crouched there, shivering in the cold, and the anguish. _

_How long was she there, she had no clue. Some forgettable person drifted by, saw her, tried to make her speak, but she couldn't. Finally, they rang the bell for her and faded away into the nothingness._

_The doors opened and light fell on her face. _

(I am aware now)

She sat up, suddenly remembering her surroundings. This was the makeshift little shelter inside the Scrow encampment.

Fiyero shifted by her side. He made sleepy noises and yawned. "Fae," he murmurred.

She turned and looked down at him, and smiled banishing her thoughts. "I thought I heard something. But it's okay," she said, trying to sound confident. She kissed him and lay back down.

It was okay, she realized even as she said it. Not only had the Scrow welcomed them and treated them as honored guests, even old friends, giving them shelter and safety, but also Fiyero had fought and struggled his way back to her. She loved him now more than ever, for his iron will and resilience. She knew if it had been her, she never would have survived.

(You've already won me over in spite of me/And don't be alarmed if I fall head over feet/Don't be surprised if I love you for all that you are/I couldn't help it/It's all your fault)


	33. Chapter 33

Note: I'm no expert on acupuncture, obviously, but I do know this wouldn't work in the real world. It's just a story anyway and I'm taking an idea I got from member Donttouch and making it into something more benign.

* * *

Fiyero let out a deep breath, trying to banish his fear. He hadn't been completely honest with Fae. It wasn't the witchwoman's expertise or lack thereof that worried him. He wasn't exactly sure what was bothering him.

He repeated the exercise. He was twenty-eight now, and regardless of what had come before he had better start acting it.

Potions and unguents, laid out on a dais. Some he was able to identify by smell. He knew that this was presumptous of him but he had to keep himself busy somehow to keep his mind off of things.

"I trust everything is to your liking," she said, announcing her presence.

He jumped, bumping into the dais and knocking over some of the items. "Sorry," he said, feeling slightly mortified. It suddenly registered that she spoke in the Arjiki venacular.

It was nice to hear his own language again after so long. He was surprised that it even placated his fears a little.

You should try to relax. You will be my guest for sometime, so you may as well make yourself comfortable."

"What will you do," he asked.

"There is a pallet, ten paces to your immediate left. I would like you to sit down there."

Her voice was insistent: it wasn't a request so he obliged.

She drew closer lifting the lids, examining them. "T'was a hideous painful thing to experience," she commented.

_Jemmsy and his damn irons. _Fiyero jerked away from her, remembering. He struggled to compose himself again. "Sorry," he told her.

"Still is, I see," she added.

She approached carrying something smelling faintly of ozone.

"Try and calm down," she told him and began smearing a salve over the burned skin. She pushed the lids down and spread it over them as well. It was cold and a strange numbness spread across his face. She made him lay back on the pallet while she worked.

He lay there not moving, anxiety working at him. Eventually, a sense of calm began flowing in and he gradually felt better. He realized then that for some reason his limbs had become to heavy to move. But also that he didn't seem to care.

"Lord Tigelaar," she called, after awhile. There was no response, as she had expected none.

Respiration falling, heart slowing to a near standstill, he couldn't have told her if he wanted to. She piled on the enchantments, taking him to the brink and binding him there.

Meanwhile, the tribal folk kept his woman busy and well away from this tent. Neither of them needed to know what would be happening, any interference could prove disastrous. Also, she had gained enough insight from his thoughts that her use of pins and needles would be highly distressing. So, no need to mention it. He would wake the next day greatly improved, provided she was allowed to do her work without incident.

* * *

_Elphaba stood beneath the skylight. The pale early-morning sun bathed her in its glow, like a stage spotlight just for her. She raised her arms over her head and took a stance like a ballerina, perfecting the image. _

_The incomparable, inscrutable She. _

_The great mystery of his life._

_He was mesmerized and hopelessly lost._

She began by making a circles around each of the eyes, pushing the needles down into the scars. She watched carefully with each one to make sure there was no sign of awareness. There wasn't and so she went on.

* * *

_A book of myth and legend prized from the Great Library. The Time Dragon in his cave, the Nome King and his equally terrible minions, the Kumbric Witch of old, Fairy Queen Lurline and her consort Preenella, and, of course, the unfathomable Unnamed God with its prevalent anonymity._

_Fiyero slid his fingers between the pages, and closed the book, thinking on which of these concepts might be the real and true one. Or if any of them at all were to be believed._

_Before he could think too much on it, Elphaba came along and sat down with him on the steps. Her arrival was completely disconcerting._

_She was eating an apple. He stared at it for a few seconds. The book had mentioned something, at one point, that apples represented forbidden knowledge._

_But...why was she here?_

_"Why are you looking at me like that?"_

_"I did not think that you liked me."_

_"So what if I don't?"_

_He didn't know what to say._

_"I'm certainly not here to be liked," she added._

_Again he was at a loss for words. He didn't understand, but at the same time he did. Somewhat. Elphaba said what ever she liked and to hell with what anyone else thought._

_She rolled her eyes at him. "Sweet Oz, you are worse than that damn Galinda...Glinda...whatever." She paused and gave him an odd look. "No, I take that back **nobody** is that bad." She glanced at the musty tome he was holding. "You **do **try for betterness, at least that can be said about you. More than can be said for her. What are you reading?" She glanced at the cover and made a noise that he couldn't interpret. "Look," she said, pointing, "the others are over there in the usual spot. Why are you over here by yourself?"_

_"I am weird. I know I don't belong at the University."_

_"Says who?"_

_"The boy in the other room. He says that I am-"_

_"I don't give I flying fuck what that idiot says."_

_He stopped talking. It wasn't so much her bluntness that threw him off, he was used to it by now. _

_"And as for being weird..." She stretched out her arms to make her point._

_"But it's true. Most of my tribe don't have the priveleges that I have. Someone told me that my people would relate to me better if I didn't distance myself from them so much. Or flaunt my good fortune."_

_"What kind of person would-Ignorance is **not** bliss! Besides you have to don't you? To lead your people?"_

_"Yes, but some of them I am overstepping my bounds. And it is the same here."_

_She sighed audibly. "Who **cares** what they think? You're not doing anything wrong. Besides you wouldn't deny them the same oppurtunities, would you?"_

_"No," he said cautiously. There was a thin line between enabling them and letting them walk all over him._

_She stood up and chucked the apple core away. "I'm going over there. With them. You come with me if you want." And then she walked away without waiting to see what he would do._

_It took him a minute to follow but he started after her. _

_A strange feeling came over him and gave him pause. He wasn't sure at first but slowly understanding came to him._

_It was the first decision that he had made for himself, since as long as he could remember. It wasn't bowing to the needs of the tribe, or to the will of some other person._

_And she just walked away from him. She didn't really care what he did._

_But she wasn't dismissing him by doing this; she was empowering him._


	34. Chapter 34

Notes: Here I'm going to start attempting to fix a plot hole that I wrote myself into. I kind of noticed it but didn't pay it any mind until someone called me out on it. But it's all good, it can equal more drama in later chapters. And we all know drama makes for good fanfiction.

But otherwise, here I'm trying to relate this situation to the after effects of morphine and such things, in context with waking up from surgery. I don't know personally so I may get it wrong

* * *

Waking up was like traveling a long distance.

"Not so fast," he heard someone say. It was the old woman who was supposed to treat him. Again, she was speaking in his own language.

"Did it work," he asked.

"Say it again?"

He sighed. He still felt tired and like everything was just too heavy. "Did it work," he repeated.

"I can't understand you," she told him.

He made an irritated noise. He was speaking plainly enough. He heard her move away after awhile.

Fae came and spoke to him later on. "How do you feel," she asked softly, as if the sound of her voice might hurt his ears.

He groaned. "I feel...like I had to much to drink." In truth, it was a mixture of the buzz _and_ the hangover stage. Dry nausea plagued him. His head pounded and whirled.

"She gave me this," she told him, putting the rim of a cup to his lips. "She said you should drink it."

He took a few swallows and felt himself start to drift again. "Powerfull stuff that is," he mumbled before sleeping again.

She waited a few minutes before confronting his 'surgeon'. "What the hell have you done!"

The old woman sighed in a long-suffering sort of way. Switching back to Basic, she told Elphapa, "This is normal. This is why I didn't want you in here. He'll be good as new in a few days."

Elphaba looked at the blood-soaked rags, the bandages wrapped thick around his eyes. "You call that normal? You butchered him as bad as those monsters did."

The old woman pursed her lips. "Time will tell."

"The hell you say."

"Perhaps I should have one of the menfolk remove you from my tent. My patient is resting, after all. I wouldn't want to have him disturbed. It will be a difficult enough recovery as it is."

"I'd like to see them try."

The old woman shook her head, sighing again and ignored her from here on.

* * *

When he woke up again, later on, he felt a little more himself. He was able to sit up and move over to the edge of the bed with Fae's help.

He leaned heavily against her, waiting for his head to stop spinning and his stomach to stop revolting.

He must have dozed off without noticing because she began nudging him awake.

The worst of the nausea gradually subsided.

He slept again, for a few minutes, leaning on her shoulder. She wouldn't let him lay back down.

She woke him up again. Made him get to his feet. He nearly fell over, he was so dizzy, but she kept him steady.

It took forever, but eventually she helped him back to their own tent. He collapsed into their bed and was dead to the world for days on end.

* * *

"I am a Scrow woman," she announced.

He blinked, realizing he was awake. _How long had it been_, he wondered. _How many days? _

He also realized he was looking at her.

The light was low, as always. But there was enough of it to see her.

And indeed she looked the part: kohl-ringed eyes, white lines painted on her face. Like all good Scrow woman was topless exposing her breasts and only wore a tan sarong tied around her waist.

Now, more than ever, did she resemble that statue.

"When did this happen," he asked, sitting up to get a better view.

"Just now," she said, smiling. She went over to the bed, and turned her back, flopping backwards like a child, landing beside him. He laughed at it, and she laughed along with him.

"You're even more beautiful than I remembered," he told her.

She rolled her eyes. "That's your biased opinion. There are plenty who would argue that."

"They're all idiots and louts. Who cares what they think?"

She shrugged. "I guess it really doesn't matter."

"No." He looked over at her. Somehow that old woman had managed to pull off a miracle. He didn't know how, but he decided not to question it, and just enjoy seeing Fae again. "It worked," he told her, told himself.

She nodded, smiling warmly again. "Yes, it worked. It couldn't be more perfect now."


	35. Chapter 35

_Lyrics : Black-hole Sun by Soundgarden_

_

* * *

_

(In my eyes, indisposed, in disguise as no one knows, hides the face, lies the snake)

_"Now that he's gone, how will I live with myself?" The words whispered in the faintest of tones, hung in the air of the place. It seemed they echoed but only for her ears._

(The sun in my disgrace)

_Her face remained stoic, stolid. She paused in front of a grand mirror, in walking by, but she didn't turn to look at herself. What would she see? Would she recognize the image?_

(Boiling heat, summer stench/Neath the black, the sky looks dead)

_Her heart was fairly torn to pieces. She wanted to cry. But her eyes were dry. It seemed the wickedness inside her had dried up all her tears._

(Call my name through the cream and I'll hear you scream again.)

_She stood still, watching him go. She waited on the threshhold. This moment had been made for them. The doors remained open indefinitly, just for her, for him._

(Black hole sun won't you come and wash away the rain/Black hole sun won't you come/Won't you come.)

_The snow flurried between them, like a veil, like curtain being drawn from the stage. Her heart soared. It was beautiful and magical and just for them._

(Stuttering, cold and damp/Steal the warm wind, tired friend)

_But..._

_He was still moving away. Leaving her standing there. Now, she felt like an idiot. The illusion shattered, falling, collapsing around them. He turned his back to her just then, missing the look that crossed her face. If he had seen, he would have surely thought twice about...just walking away!_

(Times are gone for honest men and sometimes far too long for snakes)

___He looked back for just a second and somehow she managed to say, "If you should see her, tell her I miss her still." And then he was gone._

_The snub was real. The fatal rejection. Too much for her to bear, to even comprehend. It was so much at odds with what she knew, thought she knew._

_"A dozen scarves," she said again, the words becoming a malediction. She made up her mind on the spot._

(In my shoes, a walking sleep/And my youth I pray to keep)

_His face haunted her sleep. His unseen presence dogging her steps. Day in and day out. She thought she would go mad from this. Was already mad. _

(Heaven send Hell away)

_She saw him everywhere she walked. His enduring spectre hung around every corner. accusing, intractable, a veritable juggernaut._

(No one sings like you anymore)

_Curls of soft red-gold. A glittering tiara._

_Sleights and lies._

_She dabbed on the foundation, brushed on the blush. Her lips became pouty with a pink flourish. She looked at herself in the mirror, but tried no to see, while she excerabated the lie:_

_Glinda the Good._

(Hang my head drown my fear till you all just disappear)

* * *

More of my interpretation of what we didn't see in the City of Emeralds novella. Based on Glinda's behavior in later parts of Wicked, and Son of A Witch, I felt that she may have betrayed him somehow and there you go.

Despite being my longest so far, this story is far from over...


	36. Chapter 36

_(Shiz University__)_

_Elphaba made a scathing noise. "Right. They will find the glorious little Her in that magical cave. And she will be as beautiful, and as sweet and as chaste as ever." She rolled her eyes and pretended to gag._

_"I think that people need to believe in Tippetarius the way that they need to believe in the Unnamed God," Glinda mused._

_Nessarose gave her an icy look and was about to say something but her sister interrupted. "Anyone with common sense knows that our Wizard reached right into her pretty little bassinet and slit her pretty little throat for her."_

_"Oh Elphie, you are so bubbly and cheerful this morning," Boq said brightly._

_Fiyero looked up from his studying. Trade Concepts with Jemmicoe. The subject material left him feeling a little punch-drunk and bleary eyed._

_Nessa rushed in. "Tippetarius may be moldering away in some unmarked grave but the Unnamed God is still very much alive in the world."_

_Elphaba looked incredulous. "I thought the whole point of having an Unnamed was that it is **anonymous**?"_

_"The Unnamed God is alive in everything, Elphaba. The hearts of the people, the leaves in the trees, the very air we breathe," Nessa said, her eyes aglow._

_"What a horrid concept," Elphaba said. She looked around at all of them. "An invasion from every angle. Can you imagine?"_

_Nessa sighed with great weariness. "Oh Elphaba, you should not jest so. You never know when the Unnamed God will call you back."_

_"I'll keep that in mind," she replied in a mocking tone._

_Nessarose gave her a cool look and was about to go on, but Glinda cut in. "With all due respect, Nessie, but I am a Lurlinist and I don't buy into your Unnamed God. Nor am I likely to convert any time soon."_

_But Nessa just beamed at her. "All the more reason for me to pray for your soul."_

_Glinda opened her mouth to protest but Elphaba touched her arm and shook her head. "It'll only make it worse," she said in a low voice._

_Nessa ignored her and kept talking. "I will consult the Unnamed God on your behalf. And hope that you will recieve the wisdom and insight to find the true path."_

_"Oh so the two of you have a personal relationship," Elphaba said, but uncharacteristically she blushed and lowered her gaze._

_"Blasphemy," Nessa gasped, aghast._

_"Oh, look it's a red pfenix," Boq said, trying to deflect feebly._

_Elphaba took up for him, she turned her, and the others', attention to Fiyero and his books. She looked at the top one and cringed. "I take it back, I don't want to go to Ozma Towers. Look what they torture him with," she said pointing. "But I saw that one you had last week: what is your take on all this?"_

_"Well, there is an old Unionist chapel attached to my winter home. But most of the tribe are still Lurlinists."_

_"Look at those tail feathers- oh hell, I give up. You guys kill each other if you want to."_

_Elphaba shook her head and ignored Boq. "But what about Fiyero? What does he think? Never mind all those other people."_

_"Oh...I don't know."_

_"Thats brilliant!" Boq said._

_Elphaba stared at him in utter disbelief. "What," she cried shrilly._

_"Back to your point on the Unnamed God's anonmity,-" Nessa visibly stiffened, so hard that her shoulder blades nearly clicked together,- "Fiyero is trying to say that we, as mortals, cannot possibly comprehend the Will of God. That it is, in fact, unknowable, no matter how exalted we think out knowledge of the sublime to be. To say otherwise would be hubris."_

_"That's not what he meant," Elphaba said, derisively._

_Glinda gripped her by the arm and appeared to be trying to hide behind her fan. Elphaba glared at her in confusion but then caught sight of her sister._

_Nessa had turned bright crimson and gone a little cross-eyed. She was also giving Fiyero a look that would fell a charging bull._

_He was trying to inch away, and had otherwise perfected the deer-in-headlights look beneath her withering glare._

_"And what makes you the authority on the matter. You're just a filthy, disgusting Winkie," she spat, clearly forgetting that Boq had actually started this._

_"Nessa please-"_

_"Shut up, Elphaba!"_

_Boq looked a little ill, for causing it._

_"What do **you** know of the Will of God? How can you **possibly** understand? You dare come here, indulging off the charity of bleeding hearts, lavishing in the company of your betters. How dare you judge me. **Me! **I was **born **a martyr. I have the right and the priveledge," but by now her voice was becoming so shrill and frantic they couldn't understand her._

_Nanny finally stepped in. "Enough, Girlie. Before you say something you regret."_

_"Hah!"_

_Nanny shot Elphaba a look and steered Nessarose away from the group. Even from a distance she could be heard ranting and tantruming._

_All were quiet for several beats in the wake of this. _

_Glinda emerged from behind her fan. _

_Elphaba, naturally, was the first to recover her nerve. She rounded on Boq. "What the hell did you do that for? Ugh! She will be unsufferable now."_

_"Well I didn't think she would overreact like that."_

_"**It's Nessarose**," Elphaba and Glinda said at the same time._

_Glinda added, "That certainly was a conniption, wasn't it?" She glanced at Fiyero. "Are you alright then?"_

_"Hah! Good luck with that. He doesn't know. He has **no** opinion. Hasn't got a mind of his own."_

_"That's harsh," Boq scolded._

_But Fiyero was suddenly irritated. "In the Vinkus, I am always busy. I am pulled in so many directions there is no time to think. There is always some bil to sign, some matter needing my attention. And I must put their needs before my own. That is something that Miss Elphaba **does not know **but she will understand when she is the Emminent Thropp."_

_Elphaba looked suitably chastised now, and softened to him but Boq spoke up. "I guess that you think it's alright for you to lecture him about not knowing how to act in public when you have **no** concept of polite speech."_

_"And while we're at it," Glinda added, "Nessarose would never have gone off like that if yoiu hadn't goaded her in the first place."_

_Elphaba looked mollified and contrite. "Well, I believe I've been told off..." But then she smiled around at all of them._

_A few seconds passed and the grin fell to something of near horror. She glanced sideways at Boq. _

_"Yes, go and do damage control," he told her._

_She gave him a quick nod and hurried off in the direction that Nanny and Nessa had gone._

* * *

_(Emerald City)_

_"Damn it, damn you, don't just lay there. Make this interesting," he grunted, falling heavily on top of her. He pinched her breast hard. She winced but obeyed. "That's more like it," he told her, practically drooling on her. _

_She tried not to be ill. She focused her eyes on a spot on the wall. _

_She let her hair down, for it was the only thing she possesed that could actually be considered lovely, and also, she was her mother's daughter._

_A prince, she had reasoned, could be useful to her clandestine society. But so also could a woman._

_

* * *

_

She stood in her kitchen, trying to forget. Her palms out on the table top as she had done many times.

_His footfall on the stairs, waking her from the reverie. She almost didn't want to see him. Her shields went up..._

_"Why are you here," she had asked him. _

_Suddenly, the words had new meaning._

_That smug, knowing smirk. And also, the way he just happened to be in that Unionist Chapel at the same time. It was all too convenient. _

_Her anger flared. _

_I'm being used, she thought wildly. He thinks he can trick me._

_He came through the upstairs door and she whirled around to glare at him._

_He looked at her, an expression of mild confusion on his face. "What is it?"_

_"What the hell is this?"_

_He frowned and looked blank. "What is what?"_

_"Right, right. You always had the clueless idiot act down. Well, I'm not buying it. What the hell are you up to?"_

_He didn't answer, just kept looking at her._

_"You think you can fool me. Well, let me tell you, you are a bigger fool than I'll ever be."_

_"Obviously, I still have no idea what you're on about."_

_"Don't you play coy with me! I know you're a spy."_

_"A spy?" He laughed. But then__ sobered instantly under her glare. "A spy for whom," he asked._

_"You think for one second I won't cut your throat in your sleep?"_

_He blinked in surprise. "I never thought about it."_

_"I would. Don't think I'm not capable. You're an idiot to trust me."_

_"Oh, yes. I am an idiot. And a coward. And I'm selfish, too, in case you had forgotten. Let's see, what else?"_

_"Don't you mock me!"_

_"Why would I? You're doing a good enough job at it."_

_"How dare you turn this into a joke!" __She stood there, seething while he looked back at her, placidly. _

_"What is this? Why does everything have to be so complicated with you? Somethings just are, they just happen, and that's the way it is. Why can't you understand that?"_

_"Right, they just happen. Like you just happened to be in that chapel. Because Fiyero is just so spiritually enlightened."_

_"And you are?"_

_"Don't change the subject."_

_"You're giving me a headache."_

_"You think I am so ignorant. You think I am just going to fall for this."_

_"Fall for what? Sweet Lurline, what are you really on about here?"_

_She swept her arm up and down her profile. "This. Green is what gets you off? What do you take me for? What are **you** on about?"_

_"Elphie...you're not serious?"_

_"You're a liar. You're a liar and I'm not buying it."_

_He sighed and looked away from her. _

_

* * *

_Notes: Obviously Sir Creep was not Fiyero, and I think her reaction would just be like her, turning her anger and disgust at herself on to someone else. The beginning was mostly more relationship building stuff and I just felt it was time for a Nessa tantrum.


	37. Chapter 37

The nightmares were still in evidence. She supposed that they may never go away completely.

She woke up that night to find him sitting up. She moved around in front of him.

His eyes were open, face contorted with fear, tears coursing down his cheeks. But it was obvious that he wasn't really awake.

She found a dry rag and wiped his face with it. "Come on, mo deas. Wake up now," she said, gently shaking his shoulders.

He cried out from some unseen terror and grabbed hold of her upper arm. The fingers dug in with an iron-grip.

"Ow," she gasped. But she couldn't loosen them. His grip tightened even more. It hurt like hell, but there was nothing to do but wait.

Finally his eyes cleared. They darted around wildly at first but then settled on her.

"It was just another dream," she told him.

Even though he was looking at her, he was still struggling with the remnants.

"Its alright. We're in the Scrow camp," she said.

"The Scrow camp," he repeated. "The Scrow."

"That's right. Its a safe place. You were only having a dream."

He nodded and looked around the tent again.

"Do you remember?"

"I remember," he said, but it sounded automatic.

She shook her head, nonplussed. "Fiyero, try to focus."

He blinked and looked at her again.

"Are you back?"

"I-" Another darting glance around. "This is our tent."

She relaxed. "Yes, with the Scrow and Princess Nastoya."

"Okay." He repeated it three more times. "I'm okay now."

She smiled at him, but it was a little tense. "That's good. Now, can you let go of my arm?"

"What'd you say?"

"My arm, Fiyero. Please let go."

"Your arm," he mumbled. He stared down at where he still held her in confusion.

"You're hurting me!"

He shook his head and suddenly released her.

"Thank you," she said, rubbing the spot vigorously. It would most assuredly bruise.

"I'm sorry, Fae."

"Elphaba, my name is Elphaba," she reminded him.

"Oh," he said softly. She turned and watched his face closely -it was dark in here but she could see enough-, his eyebrows went up but fell almost immediatly

"Did you forget?"

"I'm not sure."

"You've only been calling me, Fae. I had wondered."

"Elphaba." But he was just saying it, he wasn't really calling her.

"Did they tell you I did something? Try to turn you against me?"

He shrugged. "I can't remember."

"Alright," she said, letting the matter drop.

"It was only a dream," he said to himself. In a louder voice he told her, "Sometimes they seem so real."

"We all have dreams like that."

A sprig of bergamot, and a pipkin with lavendar oil had been placed by the bedside, without her knowledge. The Scrow were wonderful! Why had she ever suspected them?

But then she remembered how scared and anxious and stressed out she was at that time and it was clearer.

She would make her apologies soon enough, but for now...

She rubbed some of the oil into his skin.

"That feels good."

"I'm glad," she said, leaning forward to kiss him. "So what happened?"

He sighed and said, "It was when they were taking me to Madame Morrible for my formal confession."

Her face hardened, the expression on it becoming stiff. "Your confession."

He began describing it to her.

* * *

_"Don't look so surprised. I own you now," Jemmsy told him._

_Fiyero was long gone by now. This was only the prisoner. He curled his fingers around the thing encircling his neck. Like a collar and leash. No, that was exactly what it was._

_A last vestige of anger at this humiliation rose up in him and he balked. But then the familiar clink of the irons quickly stifled it. Laughter rang out and he hung his head in shame._

_A long time passed and finally someone new came in the room. The prisoner couldn't see them, of course, but the mere force of their presence cowed him. He shrank back._

_"What is this," a woman demanded. "I ask you to bring me the Prince of the Arjiki's and instead, you bring me this shivering relic. Explain yourself!"_

_"Maam, I-," Jemmsy began shakily. He was afraid._

_"Get out."_

_"Milady, he requires a chaperone at all times."_

_"I can take care of myself, should he rise up to strike me. Though I must say, you've seen to it that he won't. Now, leave us or I will see your head on the chopping block. And get that hideous thing," she nearly spat out the last word, "off of him. This is a human being, for the love of Oz."_

_Jemmsy hastened to obey her._

_A long silence. Finally, "Whatever that lover of yours thinks of me, I don't approve of such mindless brutality. Its sickening. Be glad that you can't see yourself."_

_The prisoner was glad, he was certainly ashamed and didn't want to see. But now that he was alone with her, he shrank away even more, raising his arms up as to deflect an expected blow. He felt the weight of her gaze settle on him._

_She sighed wearily. "Are you able to stand? If you are, you should not cower so. It is not befitting some one of your status. You were a prince, if you can remember. You should try for some dignity."_

_He complied, though it wasn't easy. His knees were still sprung from something, and that made it painful to bear his weight. But he managed, shaking boldily with mingled fear and agony. And also the beginnings of the fever that would grip him._

_"You are to be execueted in the morning," she said, brusquely._

_He began to weep. Finally, an end to all of this._

_"Don't do that," she demanded._

_But he couldn't help it, he was so relieved._

_Another tired sigh from her. "I have decided to grant you a reprieve. You are dying, anyone can see. Its clear you won't survive more than a few days, so the matter is of little consquence. I have the authority and the skill to interfere on your behalf. I shall arrange for you to be relocated to a place for you to die with some dignity. Now to the matter at hand:_

_You, Fiyero Tigelaar, have been charged with treason, collusion with a terror cell, collaborationism against our Glorious Wizard. It is my understanding that you have already offered confession to Gale Force officers, but I am here to authenticate things."_

_He nodded._

_Another pause. "Is that an admission of crime?"_

_"Yes."_

_"You are in complete understanding of the charges set against you?"_

_"Yes." _

_"I wonder...but my opinion holds little sway among lofty heights. You give your confession freely and-"_

_"Yes," he said a third time._

_She hesitated, as if unsure but then plowed ahead. "Very well, I have what I need. I will get these all in order and now I will release you back into the custody of your minders." She hesitated again. "Remember you are a prince, Lord Tigelaar. Remember yourself, at least. This is disgraceful. It should not be allowed, but alas, my authority does not extend so far."_

_

* * *

_

Elphaba scoffed, predictably. "That harridan. Damn her lies."

"I don't know. The others, they tricked me, manipulated me, for their own means and purposes. But Madame Morrible seemed genuinely remorseful."

"Of course, it _seemed_ genuine. She's a silver-tongued liar. And you weren't exactly in your right mind, either."

"I'm not saying that she's a nice person, but nobody is all bad."

"Hah! That Horrible Morrible, a good woman. That'll be the day."

"I didn't say she was good, I just said she might not be that bad."

"You don't know her like I do. You didn't live in Crage Hall."

"Well, no but maybe you were too close to see. Maybe you just made up your mind she was evil."

She shook her head in irritation. "You're only saying that because you don't know."

"What don't I know?"

She shook her head again. "Never mind, I'm tired. I'm not even sure what I meant. I'm going back to sleep." She turned over, facing away from him. She didn't want to think about this. They had really done a number on him.

The very idea! That vile harpy having regrets. She was just as, if not more, evil as the Wizard.


	38. Chapter 38

Three months had passed and the Scrow had moved on and Elphaba and Fiyero moved along with them. All thoughts of Colwen Grounds had been forgotten.

With the move and the ultimate settling in a new area, came a sudden announcement.

"Marilla," he said. "After my father." She raised an eyebrow and he looked at her questioningly. "No?"

"Amaris," she said.

"Yes," he agreed without hesitation. "Already, she is beautiful." He put his hand on her stomach and smiled at her. He looked so happy that she lost all defenses. "Amaris," he repeated. He kissed the small baby bump. "I love you already," he said, addressing the baby. He put his head there, casting her a cautious look, remembering that day with Sarima.

"Go ahead," she told him. And seemingly reading his thought, "Was she so hideous that she allowed you no intimacy?"

"She was a child," he said, reprovingly, "married to a complete stranger. If that hadn't been daunting enough...the laws of my people required me to lay with her. But to her, I was this imposing selfish oaf intent on having my way with her."

"I'll never understand it. How can you defend these monsters?"

"They're not monsters, Elphaba. They're people. Not one of us is infallible."

She made a noise of exasperation.

But he talked over her, "There is no pure evil. Not your Wizard, not Madame Morrible, not Jemmsy and certainly not Sarima."

"I thought I had broke you of that. But no, they still have a firm grip on your mind."

He wrenched away from her. "This has nothing to do with that. Morrible had no reason to fake compassion and regret. By her own admission, it didn't matter what she did."

"You're a fool if you believe-"

"No! You're a fool if you don't. Damn it, Elphaba are you that short-sighted?"

"I won't hear this."

"Of course you won't, it doesn't fit your personal dogma. Its alright for Fae to manipulate and use her lover, and don't think for a second that I wasn't on to you, but not for others to do the same. Because you are just such a good example of upright living."

"How dare you! After everything I've done for you."

"Yes," he cried. He laughed at her which only incensed her more. "And now we are back to I, now that you are angry with me. Any other time it's been we did it, we got through it together, but not now. You're so ridiculous sometimes, Elphaba. But yes, you're right. And we've come to my point and you've contradicted yourself."

She glared at him, hesitant with an equal measure of anger and intrigue. She wanted to hear it, though she may not like it.

"You were a terrorist but then you were also moved to compassion by a suffering man. And then there was me, hurling curses at you, falling to pieces at your feet and yet you endured it all. Why would you do that?"

"That's hardly the same thing. How can you even compare-"

"Stop arguing with me and listen! I'm not advocating what they did or are doing still, nor do I approve of your past actions. Now, tell me why you did it."

"You _know_ why."

"I do, but I'm trying to make a point here."

"Because I love you. And I knew that it was only because of what had happened to you. It wasn't your fault."

"Only later, did you love me, certainly not at first, like everyone else, you had you're own agenda. But never mind, ancient history; as you say, its the past and this is now. So moving along, yes, that's my point exactly, Fae-Elphaba. But that's not it, there's more: keep going."

And she did, but reluctantly, grudgingly. "Because you were -are- a good man."

He nodded, solemnly. "A good man who cheats on his wife. A good man who hurt her irrevocably."

Elphaba scoffed. "She was selfish, unappreciative. Is it any wonder why you would cheat?"

"You're right, she was selfish. She was so caught up in how I was hurting her that she failed to see how she was hurting me. But you, you stuck by me when I was my worst. Despite your old campaigns, your own evil."

But she protested some more. "The Wizard is a tyrant."

"The Wizard is a man. And you, you, gloriously unlovely you, how could I, a prince, love you? Don't look at me so, I'm only saying what you've been thinking. You're beautiful, Elphaba and I can see it, and there are others who were equally capable. Boq and Glinda, to name a few. Forget your father and those damn idiot girls from Shiz. There is always more than what is on the surface."

"I have no interior," she insisted.

He laughed again. "Still hiding behind that, are you? You use it to both degrade yourself and to justify your actions. You're ridiculous, Elphaba."

She made an irritated noise and walked out, steaming.

_The nerve! The complete lack of common sense! The Wizard was a devil and needed to be eliminated. And Fiyero, like a fool, tried to justify their actions. _Elphaba stalked through the camp grounds, striding along with such force, and looking so fierce that all shrank away from her.

Princess Nastoya saw this and laughed heartily to herself.

But for his part, Fiyero was feeling lighthearted for a welcome change. Little Amaris was coming. A new baby, a little girl for him to dote on. And in the midst of their arguing had come an epiphany. This wasn't, as she believed, the lingering influence of his trials. But a concept of the old Fiyero's views and ideas. He was finally getting back to himself. One more step in the right direction. He felt greatly relieved. He didn't worry about her. Her anger would burn of of its own accord or either it wouldn't.

But she wouldn't return for awhile yet, that was pretty much a given.

In being alone, he reflected on a day some months past, how he had struggled to make himself understood among the Scrow. More self-deception, initially attributing this to his foreign accent, there had been some difficulty in Shiz, after all, and not wanting to think of other things...and how later he had caught Elphaba, meaning well, fervently translating behind his back.

But who wants to think of their lowest point?

But it was what it was.

He remembered all the old negative emotions rising up again. The anger, the fear, the shame and imagined failure. How he had turned on her all over again, blaming her when he was really blaming himself.

And then, as it had done time and again, the rage had burned off and he fell to pieces all over again, reminded of his lack. And Elphaba, as always held on while he cried it out. He wasn't so ashamed of that anymore, seeing it as a part of healing rather than any sort of weakness, now.

He had thought himself to be clear speaking, but he had, through the influence of that nightmare, made this impossible.

The sting of it was gone, mellowed out into a sorrowful acceptance. Probably no one, but Elphaba of course, and how _she _understood, he couldn't say, would be able to understand what he was saying.

But at least now, he had recovered enough to place the blame where it truly lay, even if he couldn't completely fault any of them.


	39. Chapter 39

The sun was high and bright as was befitting of the Vinkus. Fiyero was content to lay there in the grass with Elphaba right next to him while she work on knitting a pint-sized outfit.

"Your mother is just full of surprises. Here she is: the picture of domesticity, and I never would have guessed," he told Amaris.

"Your father is an imbecile. He thinks you can hear him from inside my belly," she said, scowling at him.

But he just smiled and kissed her stomach now heavy with child and rubbed it lovingly.

She rolled her eyes. "Its a good thing that you are so devoted. I have no tolerance for children, she said stiffly.

"Your mother is so kind. So sweet. That's why I love her," he said.

Elphaba gave him a murderous look.

He ignored it and kept talking to Amaris. "The midwife says in another three weeks you will be joining us. Early, I might add. It seems you are as eager as I am. But I'd wait forever for you. You're so impatient," he said, softly as if gently scolding the child. "You get that from your mother."

"You may not have a father very soon. I'm going to kill him if he keeps on."

Fiyero laughed softly. "Your mother in her gentle infinitly loving nature-"

"You have taken it a bit too far," Elphaba snapped at him

"You see? She's really something, isn't she. An acquired taste, if you will. Like a honeybee maybe...once you get over the sting." Fiyero fell silent and watched Elphaba at her knitting. They had been living and traveling with the Scrow for the better part of a year now. It was easy to surrender oneself to this life. Easy for him at least.

There had been the Grasslands, the stalking, the hunting; the Great Kells with their treacherous peaks and crevices; Kiamo Ko and its thin veil of aristocracy, a joke if there ever had been one. Certainly, _he_ was used to a rigorous lifestyle.

But was she?

He tried to remember.

She had been born in Munchkinland but grown up in Quadling territory. Swamp lands.

He knew very little of the place, just what she had told him. And she appeared to adapt well enough but was she really? Had she been able to adapt? Did the life of a nomad differ from the life of a Missionary? Was she just pretending for his sake? She had done that before, after all, he reminded himself.

"Elphaba?"

"Hmmm?" She held up the finished piece to examine it.

"I've been thinking about Colwen Grounds."

She snorted. "Too late for that now. I find it difficult enough just to waddle back and forth between the tents."

"But I am worried about you. Wouldn't you be more comfortable raising a family there?"

"A family? How many do you expect me to have?"

He merely smiled in response.

She rolled her eyes at him but then looked around at the terrain, the people. "I prefer the company of the Scrow to Munchkinlanders on any given day. The irony here being that the Scrow are called savage but the Munchkinlanders actually are. Murderous, little beasts, every one. Except for Boq, he was a rare sort. If I do ever go back it will only be to see him again. The rest of that place is only of Nessarose's concern. Her and my father," she told him, putting a bitter strain on the last word.

He pretended not to notice and she warmed to him a little. She put her hand on his and said, "This will do quite well, I think. Colwen Grounds was just one idea. If the Wizard's soldiers are looking for us, I suppose that is the first place they will go. Either that or Kiamo Ko. We'll continue to earn our keep, me with my knitting and crocheting, you with your fishing and trapping. And when we decide to move on, or it is decided for us, we will move on."

He smiled again, such a thing coming easier these days. The idea was tempting.

Sometime went by. Elphaba finally said, "I've heard stories, things...tell me Fiyero what exactly happened when I left Shiz?"

He took a few minutes trying to remember.

She elaborated. "There was some sort of meeting?"

He nodded and started describing it:

_"Where is she," Boq asked Glinda for the thousandth or so time._

_"I don't know," she said quietly and still wouldn't look at any of them._

_"She always was a stubborn one, that Elphaba. Just like her mother," Nanny told the group._

_"But she can't have just left," Boq protested._

_"I don't want to talk about this anymore," Glinda said. _

_"What am I supposed to do," Nessarose sobbed into the napkin that Nanny held up for her._

_Boq gave her a disapproving look._

_Crope and Tibbet were uncharacteristically subdued in the wake of her disappearance. _

_But f__or his part, Fiyero was still reeling from the goings on at the Philosophy Club. He hadn't really had a chance to come to terms with that yet and now this...Elphaba's sudden disappearance. __Where had she gone to and why?_

_"This doesn't make any sense! Why would she just take off," Boq said, shaking his head._

_"Well, as I have always said: you can always depend on an radical to act as such," Madame Morrible said, breaking into their conversation. _

_Everyone was startled, having completely missed her approach. _

_She went on without giving them a chance to recover. "I must meet with all of you in my office, **immediately**."_

_"Why?" They were all thinking it, but Glinda was the one who said it. The Head said nothing but swept away with an air that said they were to follow._

_"She's going to tell us how evil Elphaba is," Boq said in a low voice._

_"Don't be ridiculous," Glinda replied._

_But that was just what they were on about. As Fiyero and the others were crowded into a room with Avaric, Shenshen, Milla and Pfanee, the Head of Crage Hall began her lecture. _

_Fiyero craned his neck over Avaric's shoulder to get a better view of Glinda, who seemed even more in a state of shock than the rest of them. He hardly paid attention to the recriminations._

_But then Morrible said, "It goes without saying that our great fear is that she may try to involve one of you in her crusades. She may have pleasing words to say to impressionable ears, but you would all do well to avoid her. I knew from the moment I first saw her that she was a dangerous individual."_

_Fiyero laughed before he could stop himself and the Head turned a cold eye on him. He stopped trying to look over Avaric's shoulder and avoided her gaze, though she kept watching him for several beats. _

_"As I was saying," she continued eventually. Boq exchanged glances with him._

_Later on they were all waiting to leave for the winter, Fiyero tried to press the subject with the others but they were all tight-lipped about it. _

_"Elphaba's gone," Boq told him. "If I know her, she'll want to stay that way."_

_"But you were always with her. You must be upset about her doing this. Unless...you know where she is."_

_Boq paled. "No, I don't know where she is! I'm a scholarship student, and people who are better than me are counting on me graduating. Elphaba knows that and wouldn't dare give them an excuse."_

_"But she must have said..."_

_"Ask Glinda, she was there."_

_"Look at Nessarose. She can hardly manage."_

_"Oh that's good, this from the person who said Nessarose would be better off if people let her be."_

_"But I didn't mean that Elphaba should leave..."_

_"It doesn't matter now. Elphie does what she wants. See you next season," Boq told him, before doubling back._

"You laughed at her," she asked him, breaking into the recount.

"Well, it was just so ridiculous, to me at least. Her going on about how dangerous you were. All that nonsense about you being an assassin."

She shrugged. "I suppose you implicated yourself from that very moment."

"Maybe. There's more, things that happened later. If you want me to go on."

"No," she said dismissively. "You told me enough."

He watched her again, sometimes he couldn't help but stare. Pregnancy had an interesting effect. Her skin became almost luminous. He rubbed her belly again, in the same loving manner. "I can't wait to meet you," he whispered to Amaris.


	40. Chapter 40

Amaris was stubborn, defiant even, right from the beginning. She was determined, already feisty. It had been predicted that she would arrive two weeks early but even that failed to satisfy her. She tripled it, arriving six weeks premature. Just like her mother already. Defiant. Impatient. Fiyero would surely have his hands full with these two.

As if to exacerabate this point, she came in fast too, as if she could hardly stand the wait. Elphaba couldn't have been in labor for an hour before Amaris began to scream.

All during the brief labor, Fiyero had been holding her hand, wiping the sweat from her brow as she struggled through the rigors of delivery.

But once he heard the new voice in the room, he immediately abandoned her in lieu of this.

There was a sudden, sharp intake of breath.

Fiyero hesitated and Elphaba lifted her head looking around, in alarm.

"What's wrong," she cried desperately. She grabbed hold of his arm. "Fiyero, the baby? What happened? Is she green too?"

"Not green," he replied in a strange voice. He moved away from her, watching the midwife with some suspicion.

She relaxed. What ever might be wrong with the child, at least it wasn't a freak of nature, like her. That gave her some comfort, at least until the midwife said, "It's a devil. Here, let me destroy it before she sees it and it upsets her."

"Its a baby!" Fiyero protested.

"What! Fiyero, what happened?"

"Amaris is fine, Elphaba," he said, pushing the midwife away. He looked down at the baby, naked and squalling on the small washing basin. The effect was unnerving, he had to admit.

But Fiyero had little in common with Frexspar the Godly and so wrapped Amaris in a swaddling towel, hiding her strangeness. _It was so minor a thing after all, _he told himself. He brought her around so Elphaba could see her new daughter.

She frowned in confusion. The baby was whole and healthy and clear-complexioned. Healthy and fit enough as a normal newborn, somehow despite coming so early. So what were they on about?

"Who knows?" he said, guessing her thought. He kissed her brow. "You should rest now," he whispered.

She nodded. "Yes, alright," she agreed with little fuss. _She was tired_.

He kissed her again and left taking Amaris with him. He went outside for a better look.

The midwife followed him. "Its an unnatural beast."

"This is our_ child," _he insisted_._ He watched her warily. Elphaba didn't need to hear this nor did he want to. "My wife needs your help in there, and you would just leave her to demonize a baby?" The reference to Elphaba was unconcious, he didn't even notice he said it. He was more concerned with getting the baby away from this beastly woman.

But he was curious.

He lifted the towel back to see more clearly in the sunlight.

It hadn't been a mistake!

_But it was so minor a thing_, he told himself again. _Easily concealed_, he reasoned. Not that he would want to. Not that it bothered him. The idea of doing so was ridiculous.

That woman was over reacting. Amaris was a beautiful baby. Their daughter.

He let out the breath he had been holding and tucked Amaris to his shoulder.

Already the word was spreading, all thanks to that bloody midwife.

Fiyero took the task of bathing her onto himself, and would let none of them near.

* * *

Notes: Now that I've left you guys with a nice little cliffhanger I am off for three days. Enjoy the suspense. :D


	41. Chapter 41

_Fiyero glanced back at the stage where Tibbet lay there spreadeagled and nearly unconcious. _

_The Tiger grew ever more agitated. Or was it excitement? _

_The woman across the mirrored stall watched him with an almost predatory gaze. "A Winkie, huh? I always wanted to slum it with a wildman. I heard your people can be quite inventive. Let's find out if thats true, shall we?" She began unbuttoning her top. _

_He looked away, back at the stage. Tibbet was tied to the Tiger and they were-, he looked away, quickly. _

_The woman laughed at his expression. "Out of your element are we? But don't worry: Lady Lorena knows how to loosen up even the most tightly wound." She moved closer, almost straddling him. _

_He tried to disengage but her grasping hands combined with the wine swimming in his head made this impossible. He managed to stand up and in the act of turning slammed his head into the door frame. He went down and she covered him with her body. She ripped at his clothes as if unable to control her passion._

_He pushed her roughly away. __But that only seemed to entice her more. _

_"Oh, I like it rough", she purred coming at him again. She bit him, scratched him with her nails, he didn't like any of it, fought against her. He was at a loss for what to do. All his struggles only excited her more and more. _

_"There is nothing like the taking of a superior," she said as if in answer to his thoughts. She yanked his pants down around his ankles and did something that sent white hot electricity all through him. _

_But I am married, he tried but now it was only half-hearted._

_And she just laughed in the same carefree manner. "So am I, my little cold fish. Makes it more delicious does it not? After tonight, you can teach that good little woman of yours a few tricks. She will thank you for this night." She scared him nearly witless but there was a thrill as well. _

_Fading consciousness. She worked her skills on him and he flailed like a worm snared on a fishhook. A premature moan and his hands tightened and clenched where she pinned them to the floor. _

_He felt feverish, dizzy, delirious even. __Was it the wine? __Was it her? _

_He felt himself relaxing, surrendering to her, to both. He fell more and more into a dreamlike state though he was painfully aware of what she was doing. He moaned, he trembled, twisted and squirmed. She teased and taunted, turned him inside out. His eyes rolled, they fluttered, him now completely in her thrall. His back arched but he immediatly collapsed back to the floor, panting and weeping. _

_"The stuff of nightmares, tall dark and frigid. Thawed you out a little, didn't I?" And she laughed wickedly but all he could do was lay there and moan, head turning from side to side. _

__

The woman was gone when Fiyero came around a little. His brain was still clogged with wine. He peered blearily up at Crope who was standing over him.

What had happened before was a riot of fear and a horrible pleasure. Ignomious.

Fiyero turned his head and wept into his sleeve. Crope sat close in an effort to console.

Elphaba had said something to him about Crope, but Fiyero was too in shock to remember what it was right now. He let his head fall onto Crope's shoulder. Whatever it was didn't seem important at the moment. He could feel Crope's hot breath on his bare skin.

Oh that was it, he thought vaguely. He was barely conscious and could even hear himself begining to snore but regardless there was some response to being this close. He felt the other boy's fingers and lips caressing. Could feel Crope kissing him and doing other things...

"I don't like it here. Take me back to Ozma Towers," he managed to say. But he wasn't sure Crope understood, the words were so slurred. He drifted away.

_Furious whispering. They plagued him. He was having such a good rest and waking brought around a raging hangover._

_"They're naked," a female voice gasped. Milla._

_Boq: "Come on, Fiyero. Crope. Wake up. We have to get back."_

_"Don't let them go out there like that."_

_The others began to argue in a maddening, infuriating way._

_Fiyero rolled over onto his side and threw up onto the floor. _

_"Ew!" Milla squealed._

_"Oh what!" Boq said. "You were sick on Shenshen!"_

_"Stop yelling," Fiyero groaned clutching his splitting skull. _

_"Get up, get up," Boq said, tugging at his arm. _

_"Fine," he said petulantly. He sat up, way too fast, and passed out again. _

_When he came to, Avaric and Crope were dragging him between them. He was sick again. _

_Avaric swore loudly, profusely. "These were one of a kind Lambton leather. They're irreplacable, how-"_

_"SHUT UP, AVARIC!"_

_Fiyero grabbed his head and fell to the ground. Why wouldn't they stop yelling?_

_

* * *

_Note: To clear things up, I don't think that Crope would be the type to take advantage of some one in that state and I'm actually not trying to imply that he did, but I felt that because of certain things that Fiyero said and did in Emerald City that they may have had a moment.


	42. Chapter 42

Amaris was born with a full head of hair which was not so unusual. The color, on the other hand...was undeniably singular.

Itinerants from Fliaan often had auburn hair, for Quadlings it was much the same.

And there were a fair few Gilikinese with reddish highlights to their blonde locks.

But nothing like this fierce, flaming red.

Once Fiyero got over the initial shock, and even he couldn't deny it was disconcerting, he found it almost fascinating.

He smiled inwardly, as he watched her sleep. _Of course, any child of Elphaba's would have to be different by default. _

_She was so small though! So little!_

He hadn't been present for the birth of his other children; not one of them, estranged in their early lives. There was always too much to be done. Always too busy. No wonder they had been estranged. He never really stood a chance. And he had never been especially kind to their mother. Sarima had coveted their children, which was understandable, fitting, given his absence.

_But the hair!_ It was like flames captured...He touched it from time to time as if expecting it to burn his hands.

She was so perfect. His hand covered her whole little back and part of the shoulders.

_Did she look like him_, he wondered, looking at her little face.

Her eyes were deep emerald, the same as color as Elphaba's skin. He tried to remember what he had looked like before but the recollection had all but burned away.

_Was there anything of the Arjiki prince left? _

There was a mirror on the dais. He reached for it.

This was the first time he had bothered to look at himself in all these months: a dozen cuts or more along the cheeks and jaw. The shattered cheekbone lent weight to the disfigurement.

Good thing Fiyero wasn't given to vanity.

Still there was a bitter sting to it, as part of their campaign to rend his spirit.

At some point in his refusal to cooperate, Jemmsy ordered his lips sewn shut with metal twine and left them like that for more than a week. He hadn't been able to eat or drink during that time, not that any of it was edible, but what was a starving prisoner to those men?

With all this and the hideous burns around the eyes and the pocked diamonds, he didn't recognize himself.

And the tongue; _sweet Lurline, what in Oz had possessed him to do such a thing!_

Elphaba came inside the tent, eating an apple.

_Forbidden knowledge_, he remembered and allowed himself a small smile.

She bent over the bedroll, unfolding some small garment. Too big for Amaris. Maybe for one of the older children? Whatever.

He went up behind her and encircled her small waist with his arms, kissing and breathing on her neck.

She responded pleasingly enough but put up a mild resistance. "Oh mo deas, now is not the time."

"We'll make it time,' he whispered.

"They expect me at the merchant circle in five-."

"You will be late." He turned her around and kissed her some more.

She pulled away still. "I have to give you a raincheck."

"Stay with me," he insisted.

"I'm coming back," she told him. She cupped his cheek for a second before disengaging completely. She left and he was disappointed.

He went over and lifted Amaris from her bassinet. The infant protested volubly at being disturbed. It wasn't the same but it would have to do. He set her down on the bedroll and watched at her some more.

He had, for awhile, entertained the idea of using peroxide but it seemed out of the question now. A travesty even. The right sort of man would love her, when that time came many, many years from now. Or she could bleach her own hair.

But Amaris in her sweet innocence didn't care what he looked like. Neither did Elphaba with her alternating nurturing patience and fierce passion. He picked up Amaris again, held her to his shoulder. She was so small, so delicate. One tiny little hand could curl around his finger.

He lay back, holding her there. His hand covered her entire back and shoulders.

Perfect love and perfect trust.

She slept sound now, snoring little baby snores. He laughed softly at the sound.

* * *

More notes: After my weeklong absence I will be playing catch up these next few days. Cheers! :D And oh! Oh yeah, Elphie is part Irish, as revealed near the end of the book. Hence the fiery hair of Amaris. And I swear, honest to God, that I only just realized that Amaris is an anagram of Sarima. It was not intentional, though I've also realized that I can use the fact later on, for further drama. :D


	43. Chapter 43

Their departure was, for the most part, unceremonious.

The Scrow were very hospitible but even more superstitious. The advent of Amaris' birth and her strange hair was the cause of much gossip, and not all of it pleasant:

_"The Arjiki prince is cursed for his infidelity and absence."_

_"No, no. It is the bad blood of his green woman."_

Or so most of the rumors ran...

In light of this, Elphaba and Fiyero reached a tacit aggreement: it was time to go. It was quick work, they had few belongings and most were already acclimated to the nomadic lifestyle.

Fiyero slid Amaris into the makeshift sling he had fashioned for her. It ran along, strapped across his shoulder and torso.

The infant made sleepy noises and shifted on to her side. Fiyero smiled warmly, watching her.

They headed out in the early hours before dawn.

But they were not unnoticed. Princess Nastoya gently trumpted, announcing her approach. Somehow she had come up on them without their knowledge. Fiyero reasoned from this his tracking skills were rusty from neglect.

Or maybe she was just that good.

Fiyero touched Amaris' little arm to make sure she stayed calm. By now they had picked up enough of the Scrow language to cope without a translator.

The Elephant merely regarded them for a time, letting her trunk swish to and fro. But then she lifted it and placed it around his shoulders like a boa. The tip fluttered over his heart.

"There is still much grief here. Of evils done to you and evils_ you have done._ And there is much grief to be avoided if you act."

He sighed, though he didn't know what she meant by grief to be avoided. But what did it matter? This was the last thing he wanted to hear. He just wanted to go off to some quiet corner of Oz with Elphie and Amaris and the hell with anything else. He felt anxious and uncomfortable.

"The house of Tigelaar crumbles," she continued.

He might have known her intentions. A little selfishness was required and damn it, hadn't he suffered enough?

She stamped an oversized foot and said, "That has _hardly_ begun," as if she read his thoughts.

"But I can do nothing for them. I have no use anymore."

"Stop," she commanded forcefully. "Why poison your own mind with such lies?"

He didn't know what to say.

She continued a low timpanic voice, "You are wrong." She turned her attention to Elphaba. "You have competition now," she said, eyes twinkling with amusement and mischief.

Looking at Elphaba, Fiyero tightened his hold on the child unconciously. "She is unique as only a child of yours should be," the Elephant told her.

Elphaba looked vaguely offended and defiant. She lifted her sharp chin and held the Elephant's gaze unabashedly.

Princess Nastoya laughed, impressed. "Now back to you," she said turning back to Fiyero. "You have an obligation to your own. There is no more time to waste."

There was an edge of disapproval in her voice. Still not knowing what to say he looked to Elphaba for help.

But Nastoya turned his head back to her. "This is none of her affair. Now comes the time to stand on your own feet. They wait for you," she told him, casually flipping her trunk to points further west.

"What use would they have of me? What possible good am I to anyone now? Look at me, look at me!"

Princess Nastoya looked unmoved. "I am looking," the Elephant told him, "and I see what she sees."

"I never did anything for them. I'd just be a burden on them, like I am for her!"

"Oh no, Fiyero, never that..."

Princess Nastoya touched him on the forehead with her trunk, caressing the scars etched on his face, as if reading them. The old pain and fear returning to him at her touch. "No one denies your grief, none here can comprehend it's depth," she said. "It is beyond your woman's experience and mine as well, but you have an obligation. You must return to the mountains and with haste. There is danger unforseen to those living there. Listen well, to delay any longer will only cause more grief."

Fiyero disentangled himself from her, with an effort, backing away from them in a state of shock. He hated the prospect of going back to Kiamo Ko and facing all of that. But here was Princess Nastoya, effectively binding him to just that.

Two horses and two skarks, and a pup, the latter lifted from a caravan ambushed some months ago, were awarded to them. The little dog instantly attached itself to Elphaba.

* * *

The cold was coming in, as they moved across the plains. The damp air causing his cramped, crippled hands to ache unmercifully. There were times he couldn't ride, being unable to grip the reins. He would dismount and walk along, leading the horse with the reins looped around his arm. He lied and told her it was so not to jolt Amaris too much. Elphaba followed suite, without comment, keeping her face impassive. But he could tell she wasn't buying it.

Another farm house, another hayloft for the night. A blanket heavy blanket for the three of them, little Amaris sleeping between them for extra warmth. The animals were suitably housed in the downstairs area.

Fiyero lay awake, long into the night. Between the pain in his hands and the stress of the Kells looming in the distance kept sleep far away.

Eventually thugh, it just became too much for him to stand. "Fae," he gasped.

She woke at once, sitting up. "What is it?"

"My hands," he said, holding them up. They shook, as if palsied, had even curled inward a bit.

She knew, of course, she had known. She took something from her small travel purse. "That woman, who healed your eyes, you know she talks? And I pay attention for another thing" she said, scolding him a little.

"I know you do."

"And look what those monsters have done to your beautiful hands, is it any wonder," she said in a softer tone. She stroked them in a loving manner, almost pitying. "But I wonder, why haven't you said anything before now," she said in the same chiding manner, looking up at him sternly.

"I didn't want you to worry."

She shook her head, frowning slightly. "I need to apparently. Since you won't."

"I didn't think it would matter. We'd been with the Scrow for so long, and they have resources."

"Yes, they do. That woman gave me this," she said, indicating the small bottle she was holding. "But we are not with the Scrow any longer." She poured a small amount out on to the back of his hands.

"It's warm," he said in surprise. Almost hot even.

She started rubbing it in. "Mmhmm," she said, working it into the aching joints, and like magic, the pain began lifting. She carefully began straightening out the fingers. He winced, though it was mostly a reflex. They were feeling much better by now. "What worried me," she pointed out, "was that you _weren't_ telling me."

"I was afraid that...I didn't want you to think-"

"Yes, I know, Fiyero."

"I can't be him anymore. I just...I know that you want-"

"You don't know what I want," she said mildly.

"Things happened in there. I'm trying, I want you to know that."

"I do." She bound his hands up tight some plain scarves.

"But things happened and it just eats away at me sometimes."

She stopped and looked at him.

"I don't want to disappoint you," he finished.

She didn't say anything for awhile, as if gleaning some other truth from what he was saying. And she said as much, "You disappointed Sarima. That's what this has always been about."

"What," he said, shocked and nonplussed.

"You're bound to disappoint me on some grounds, and I: you. But not with this. So you've been changed? I mean, look what you had to deal with. There's no question." She pointed to Amaris. "She's changing you too, I've noticed. Who knows, maybe she gives you a purpose. Just having her around, or even the idea of her, back when I was still pregnant...so it doesn't matter how much you change or why. And as to what I want, I just want you to be happy."


	44. Chapter 44

"She's your child," Elphaba said one morning out of the blue, while watching the baby. "Its obvious, that she's your's."

"Well...I had been hoping," he said extremely disconcerted. He tried to play it off. "Unless you're just so good that you changed Crope's preferences."

She appeared not to have heard him. "I might as well not even be here. Not that it really matters." She stared at Amaris. "I carried her to term, and bore her...shouldn't I feel something?"

Fiyero didn't know what to say so he kept quiet. His thoughts wandered.

Three nights past, back in the hayloft and the way that his hands hurt so terribly. He winced in retrospect, though he could recall little more than the feel of her soothing touch. Even the memory of the pain, so intense at the time, was pretty much gone. He did, however, remember some of the conversation from that night:

_"She's changing you too, I've noticed. Who knows, maybe she gives you a purpose. Just having her around..."_

And another conversation from years ago:

_"They will find the glorious little Her in that magical cave. And she will be as beautiful, and as sweet and as chaste as ever." _

_"I think that people need to believe in Tippetarius the way that they need to believe in the Unnamed God," Glinda mused._

_"Anyone with common sense knows that our Wizard reached right into her pretty little bassinet and slit her pretty little throat for her."_

_"... moldering away in some unmarked grave..."_

He looked at Amaris and wondered if there was something to the stories of Tippetarius.

A child savior...

Certainly, Amaris had saved him. It was as Elphaba said, she gave him a purpose at life. He also wondered if he was being too selfish, leaning on the baby like this. He kissed her on the head. "She's so perfect, Elphie. Look at those little hands!" He picked up one of her feet to look at it more closely, which Amaris did not like and let him know. He laughed softly and pushed her nose with his finger, making a honking noise as he did so.

"Oh sweet Oz, you see what I have to put up with," Elphaba said to Amaris. But she was only teasing.

After awhile, he said, "I've been thinking about Ozma Tippetarius."

Elphaba rolled her eyes and looked annoyed. "Tell me you do not believe that nonsense about a secret cave?"

He shook his head. "No, but Elphie, she_ could _be alive. Think about it. After everything, Madame Morrible set me free," - to avoid another squabble, he quickly added, - "whether out of pity or otherwise. But regardless, she more or less considered me to be negligible at that point. If you take all of the superstitious nonsense out of it, she might be alive somewhere simply because they considered her not to be a threat."

She looked at him for a long time, not speaking and he lost heart a little. "You think I'm being ridiculous."

"No, it makes sense, I suppose. But would it matter? She could be imprisoned, like you were. Or maybe dumped off somewhere. She was a baby when the Wizard performed his coup. She may not even know of her own significance."

"She'd be our age," he said, thoughtfully. "Who knows, she could be in the next farmhouse, or we may have already met her, but there would be no way of knowing. We may have walked right by and had no idea of who we were looking at."

"I never thought of that." She shivered a little and made a face. "Now that's disturbing... Oz's only hope as a farmwife? I pity the soul who passes her by in ignorance."

Fiyero raised an eyebrow. "Soul?"

She sneered at him. "_Now_, you're being ridiculous."

"Ah..."

_"_It's_ an expression."_

"Is it?"

Her nostrils flared.

"Have I made you angry," he asked, blithely. She glared at him, seething for a few minutes before getting up and leaving. He smiled, watching her storm away in high dudgeon. "Your mother...it's how she is. One gets used to it," he explained to Amaris.

* * *

Sometime after leaving him, she found one of the many small lakes and stopped at its shore.

_A soul? A soul! He could be so irritating! A blessing in disguise, that he had recovered enough to be irritating, of course, but why was he so quick to try her patience? _

She sat down and stared across the open water, hoping to distract herself.

Time passed quickly as her anger imploded upon itself. She got up finally, turning to leave.

The water rippled close to the edge, catching her eye. A scene began to play out as she was helpless to watch.

Fiyero climbed the stairs to her loft left behind in Emerald City. As soon as he reached the upstairs it was obvious, to her at least, that there were others in the room, standing in the shadows, lying in wait. He wandered around the darkened apartment for some time before banking a fire up. They were waiting to be sure that he saw them before they attacked. It was completely and unnecessarily cruel.

"I don't want to see this," she said, vehemently.

And surprisingly the scene shifted. He sat, hugging his knees in a tiny dark cell, huddled in one corner. An act of self-preservation it was; if he reached out with his hand he could touch the wall on either side of him.

She blinked and that was it.

* * *

Tippetarius. The vanished Ozma. The source of much gossip, and Oz's rightful ruler.

Fiyero was shocked to find that after being tortured for treason, now he was actually having seditious ideation. How ironic. _Although_, he reasoned, _if you are going to be punished for a crime, you may as well indulge yourself._

But then something suddenly came together in his mind.

Avaric was in line to be the Margreave of Tenmeadows. Of little concern. He liked his liquor, and loose women. Lucky for him, he was easy enough to control. But still...

Elphaba was the Third Thropp Descending, being from the most powerful family in Munchkinland. Lady Partra, her grandmother, died how? And Melena Thropp passed during childbirth. But were the deaths accidental, or natural, really? And Fae, herself, with a healthy sense of paranoia, vanishing of her own accord because of some alleged conspiracy of subjugation? It did the job, successfully pushing her out of the way, in favor of the weaker, co-dependent Nessarose.

Fiyero was, of course, already leading his tribe, at least nominally. His example apparently called for the extra effort. But why? It was more than him feeling the victim that made him question this. But what made him so dangerous? Why was he singled out like that?

And then there were the others: Shenshen, Glinda, and Boq, for example; powerful enough in their own rights. Surely such a group must have been worrisome to the powers that be.

If one was to include the Ozma's, it was the systematic elimination of a country's political helm. And for what? The supreme authority of one man?

_Hell, why has no one noticed this before?_

Fiyero looked up to see her coming back. He started to say something about what he had been thinking but she was giving him such a strange look that he was distracted. He frowned in confusion. "What is it," he asked, nonplussed.

She stopped a few paces from him. "I love you, Fiyero. I wanted you to know."

_What in Oz_? His eyebrows went up and knotted together in confusion. "I...love you too, Elphie."

She started to say more but caught herself.

Fiyero was at a complete loss as to what to say or do. "Are you feeling alright?"

She seemed to suddenly remember herself. "Yes. I'm fine. I just...I love you."

"Okay," he said, cautiously, now even more uncertain.

She laughed a short nervous laugh and then looked like she was seeing him for the first time all over again. She closed the small distance between them and kissed him with renewed passion. She backed up a little, just enough to look at him. And laughed again, more joyful, more abandoned. Smiled at him.

He grinned back, still bewildered. "Well, I like it, but I still don't know what its about."

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She looked from him to Amaris and back. "Everything is just so wonderful now."


	45. Chapter 45

Even in the early season, winter proved to be especially brutal. Or maybe he had just forgotten what was the norm. He pushed himself, possibly too far. Fish from an ice hole, the occasional snared rabbit or bird, roots and winter fruit. He tried at least to keep them fed.

Of course, Elphaba wouldn't touch meat. But she relented enough to admit that an intelligent Animal would get tangled up in such an obvious trap. They retreated to a low mountain cave, with the hopes that it would be warmer closer to the ground.

Fiyero watched the small fire he had just built try to burn. It was hardly more than a pile of sticks and they were too damp to produce much more than smoke. "This is all I could find," he told her miserably.

"Its fine," she said.

At least the smoke was drifting out of the cave. They had blankets, to pile beneath and on top of them, but would that be enough as the real cold set in?

Elphaba coughed into the crook of her elbow.

Fiyero looked over at her. "You aren't getting sick are you?"

"Its a cold, maybe," she said. She cleared her throat. He came over and felt her forehead. She balked at being fretted over.

"But you're fevered," he told her.

She scoffed. "Its a cold." He waved her protest off and wrapped a blanket around her, while she scowled at him. "This isn't necessary."

He ignored her and took Amaris closer to the struggling fire.

The skarks produced good milk. He soaked several rags in it and held them for Amaris to suckle.

Elphaba fell asleep watching him care for the child.

The fire was close to dying. Fiyero tucked Amaris securely into her sling and went to check on Elphaba. She was burning hot with the fever. He sighed and felt reluctant to leave her. But he had to get firewood, whatever other supplies he could find. He put on one of the heavier coats before heading out.

He took out his hand axe and cut up some saplings as best he could with it.

It hadn't been easy, but he managed to get a small load of viable firewood, peppermint and chamomile for her fever.

He set one of the canteens to boil and steeped the herbs in it.

"Fae," he whispered, shaking her awake gently. She was her usual, irritable self but he was able to convince her to take it.

The steam coming off her cup had an efferevescent effect and she felt better almost instantly, just breathing it in. She looked over at him, and took the oppurtunity to press her case. "Fiyero, I think Princess Nastoya was right. We should make for Kiamo Ko."

"That is the last place in Oz that I want to go. Well, one of them anyway. And it's just where I'm trying to get."

"I know you don't like it but I think it will be good for you in the end." He paled and so she went on," I know how you feel. I was ever the disapointment to my father. But I never would shrink from him."

Fiyero looked from Elphaba to Amaris. Among other things, how would he explain them? Sarima would surely have his head for this. He could sham amnesia but he had no skill in lying.

"Lets not talk about this right now," he said, almost pleading with her. Even so, what worried him the most was the way her forehead was burning. The cold and damp could turn something so minor into a real crisis. "I wonder if this is how you felt," he said, desperate to change the subject. He put his face next to hers. "Although this hardly as extreme."

She smiled warmly. "I was so worried at the time. But I needn't have been, I see now. You bowed to no one, not even death." She sobered suddenly. "Im sorry, Fiyero. In Emerald City, I just didn't know what I had."

He shrugged and waved it off. "Its the past." He smiled back. "This is perfect, isnt it?"

She marveled at his definition of perfect. This was a cave, for one thing. They were spending the winter in a cave... And like most caves, it was damp, cold and poorly lit. And then there was him. His face (and just about everything else) being heavily scarred from that terrible time, turned the smile into something unnerving. There were times that she had to work to hide her revulsion, much to her dismay. _How could she be so shallow?_ The change had been so extreme, she recalled, that, at first, she had been unable to recognize him.

But the same smile was so sweet and geniune that it made all the difference. And what she had once percieved as laziness and carelessness had actually been what helped him survive that place. She, highly strung and hopelessly impatient, couldn't have managed. She had despised him for those very things, once upon a time. She leaned in resting on his shoulder, feeling his closeness.

An arm circled her, protectively. He kissed her forehead. "Idiot, what if you get sick now?"

He shrugged.

She sighed inwardly, fearing that her affections were beginning to wane. Still, it felt wonderfully comfortable just leaning here like this.

Sometime later, when she was asleep, Fiyero sighed, realizing that she had been right. He was catching her cold. But he would do what he could to hide it from her. So she could lay back and be cared for, for a change.

He built up the fire again, fed Amaris and went back to where she slept.

The next morning he was so weak he could hardly stand. He struggled through it somehow. Elphaba and him shared a flavorless stew of boiled tar root. He began to wonder about the wisdom of staying here.

"I have to get up now," he told himself, that evening. "We're going to freeze if I don't." If only he could find the energy. He turned his head to look at the glowing embers. It was only a few feet away but they seemed miles. He would have stayed had not Amaris stirred and whined just then. He drug himself over there and made a feeble attempt to feed the fire.

The baby was screaming. She was successful in waking Elphaba. She forced herself to sit up and waited for her head to stop rioting.

Where was Fiyero and why hadn't he seen to the baby? She looked around, irritated. He lay, not moving, by the dead fire, his face turned towards her.

For a horrible moment she feared he was dead. But then he coughed violently. Before she realized she had moved, she was beside him. "Fiyero!"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "My angel...other land," he mumbled among some incoherent things.

She shook her head. "I'm hardly an angel." Several seconds passed in which he failed to pull another breath. "No, don't you dare! Not now. Not when we're finally safe." It seemed only with a great effort did he manage to steady his breathing.

_It was the damn cold air_. She gave him her blanket and made him sit up. By now the fire was going good and he quickly recovered, as he warmed up.

"What were you thinking," she snapped when he was more responsive.

"We needed a fire," he told her, speaking as if it were little matter.

"And you try to help by almost letting yourself freeze to death?"

He shrugged. "I'll admit it wasn't the wisest course of action-"

"Damn right it wasn't."

He sighed. "You weren't feeling well and I didn't want to worry you on my being sick too."

"Funny how your trying to spare me trouble actually causes me more grief."

"Well, obviously I'm okay now, or you wouldn't be yelling at me, so what's the problem?"

She shook her head in irritation. "What the hell is wrong with you? Its like you have a death wish. That was stupid, Fiyero. And you don't even seem to care."

"What's to worry about? You woke up in time."

She stared at him in disbelief. It was pointless, she could see. So she took a lesson from him and changed the subject. "We can't stay here. This was a bad idea. I should've known better. The three of us will be dead before the early thaw."

"Where will we go?"

She sighed, uncomfortably. "I guess, back to the Mauntery. You know the one in the Shale Shallows. That was where I found you. I hate the idea of it, but at least it will be warm and there will be food." She shook her head, annoyed at the concept. "I've been avoiding it all this time. But I suppose that's no different than you trying to avoid Kiamo Ko, and your darling Sarima."

* * *

_Mild hypothermia (at least in Fiyero's case), along with possible influenza, maybe? In my mind, Oz would some what coincide with the epidemic of our world (assuming that Oz was a real place, lol. I'm not that crazy.) But coming on the turn of the century here, 1880s-1900s, it might have, and what would be common place to modern times would be near fatal in that age. Lucky for them, Fiyero and Fae are young and strong and resiliant. We won't actually visit the Mauntery, but they will. Next chapter flashes forward to the Great Kells. Drama approaches..._


	46. Chapter 46

She found great satisfaction in the expressions of her former Sisters at the Mauntery. Fiyero had recovered wonderfully despite their naysaying. And she wasn't above a juvenile 'I told you so.' But other than that the rest of the season passed without incident.

They left at early thaw. But coming to the Kells brought no relief, however. They arrived to find that the village of Red Windmill had been burned to the ground.

Looking around, Fiyero wasn't sure how to react.

_This was what Princess Nastoya had been trying to tell me. And I insisted on delaying. _

There was a sudden skittering of debris and a ragtag group of survivors emerged. He couldn't look at them, having inadvertantly caused this.

But one of them came forward and embraced him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

The others hung back and Fiyero imagined a sense of blame among them. And they were right to do so. He may never have been captured if he had gone home as planned, and the year and change with the Scrow, the winter spent in the valley. "I'm sorry," he repeated. The grief that the old Elephant had stirred up came back with a vengeneance. All he could do was apologize again and again. "I didn't know."

The village had been decimated, there were maybe ten survivors. All the unforeseen repercussions of his infidelity. He hadn't been here to prevent this. And that she would offer him solace. Of course, she didn't know he was to blame. "I was detained, healing was a trial in itself."

"So I see," she said. "We have been sorely tried here on the fringes, as well."

"Tell me," he said, withdrawing from her. "What has happened here?"

"A small regiment of soldiers came through to relocate the royal family," she explained, quickly, in the hopes that it would soften the blow.

"They're gone," he said, glancing quickly at the castle towering in the distance.

She nodded solemnly. "We don't know where they may have been taken."

This was the last in a long string of failures to Sarima.

_And Amaris..._

He looked at the babe, realizing for the first time how Elphaba had reworked the letters of Sarima's name. Had she meant to, at least on an unconcious level? Any woman could be so cruel, but no, he didnt think she would bait him so viciously.

She moved closer putting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. And now the cruel joke: he could move his lover into the palace, what he had planned to do under different circumstances, and the hell with what Sarima thought. After all it wasn't unheard of that Arjiki men take second wives. Or for princes to take concubines.

"I am sorry to give this news so soon after your personal trial," the elder woman told him.

"How can they be gone," he said, avoiding Elphaba's gaze. In fact, he couldn't bring himself to look at any of them. "This can't be." He turned away. He felt numb again, like the initial shock of a wound, before the pain asserts itself. He went back up the path, hardly paying attention to where he was going.

"This was the last thing you needed," Elphaba said, following behind him.

_Now that was being presumptous._ He stopped walking but didn't turn to look at her. "Elphaba," he said over his shoulder, "I'd like to be left alone right now."

"Oh," she said, sounding mortified and regretful. "Of course, and now I've made an ass of myself. Take all the time you need. I'll meet you back at the village, and we can decide where to stay the night."

He forced himself to turn around and look at her.

She faltered as she spoke. "Maybe in the castle or..."

"No, Fae. I think that its best if I'm alone. Amaris can-"

"You're leaving me?" Her eyes narrowed. It wasn't that she hadn't anticipated it, or had her own doubts for that matter, but that didn't take away the sting.

"Fae, listen to me, it's nothing to do with you." He cringed at his own words, knowing how he sounded. "Back with the Scrow, what Princess Nastoya said. I need to make my own way."

She knew it had been too good to last. Sarima was his wife and she just his clandestine mistress. She knew it would end here in the shadows of Kiamo Ko. She hated him all at once, with everything she had done for him, and that she should be so easily cast aside. She couldn't stand for him to even try to justify this.

"I have to do this, Elphaba. I wish it didn't-"

"Oh stop your snivelling and spare me," she snarled at him. She turned on her heel and left him standing there.

He sighed feeling tired more than anything and watched her go. She didn't understand, of course she didn't. Right now, she was too angry. He hoped that when she calmed that she would be more reasonable. But this was Elphaba...

Was Sarima dead or alive, he asked himself. Whatever her flaws, he was bound to her inexorably. It wasn't right that she pay for his transgression. He should at least attempt to mourn her loss in the traditional way of abstinence.

And more than that, the Elephant was right. For the past two years he had been relying on Elphaba for strength, maybe even too much, and it was past due that he should start taking care of himself. He wasn't Nessarose, and wouldn't be satisfied being propped up by another. The barracks were long gone by now.


	47. Chapter 47

He watched Elphaba from a distance, glad to see she settled in with the clan and that they accepted her as readily. She was clearly making an effort to ignore him, he could see. He smiled, amused by her behavior. Amaris used his arm to pull herself clumsily into a sitting position. She was eight months old and growing more mobile by the day.

"You're probably wondering why she isn't here. It's a long story, and I don't want to trouble you with the details. But I'm sure you've noticed that your mother isn't the warmest of souls. It's nothing on her, some people are just like that. She's a wonderful person in her own rights. But don't think that she doesn't love you." He ruffled the baby's hair.

The sun was starting to sink, casting long shadows. Fiyero sighed and gathered the child up, heading back towards Massacre Peak, the former location of Red Windmill, renamed in memory of the recent atrocities commited there.

He wouldn't go near the castle. Never particularly given to superstitions but he imagined their angry spirits haunted the place. He settled into one of the surviving cottages for the night.

He left an oil lamp burning in every corner. He finished lighting them and instantly realized this was a mistake. Each flickering shadow became a Gale Forcer.

_They rushed at him and he stumbled backwards, throwing up his arms in an attempt at defense. _

He mentally shook himself and looked around the place. Of course, it was empty but for him and the baby, he tried to assure himself. But he was shaken by the flashback.

He unrolled his bedroll and lay down. Amaris slept in her bassinet a few feet away.

He woke during the night. The lamps had burned out somehow, every single one of them, pitching the room in darkness. Old memories, he thought long buried, rose up to bind him with fear. Isolation and the suffocating dark worked together to immobilize him. He felt embarrased at the same time, for something so foolish, but he wished that Amaris would wake up, like babies did, and cry to break the spell on him.

But she slept on peacefully, oblivious to his panic. The night dragged on at a snail's pace."Is this how it will be," he asked himself as the dawn pulled in, and he was finally able to recover. He felt horribly embarrassed, and annoyed with himself. _Afraid of the dark, of all things!_ Nevermind that he had a reason to be. "You are mad," he said, dismayed. "Look at yourself, it gets dark and you come to pieces. Its been so long, you should be over this by now."

It had been a mistake leaving Elphie. He had been so sure that he could handle things at the time. But every night like the last broke his resolve. He woked up the nerve to go see her and apologize, hopefully make things right.

He stood by the doorway, watching her nervously, feeling very awkward.

"Where is Amaris," she asked, to start things off.

"Oh...there's an old widow in the village. She was more than happy to..."

She nodded. "It sounds like the two of you are doing well."

"I can't do this. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I can't be alone."

Elphaba looked up at him. "What happened?"

But he just shook his head. He looked so miserable that she nearly relented.

"Where is my strong Fiyero," she said sadly. "You were doing so well." It was as if the last few years had never happened and he was back to that shattered person. But she surprised herself by saying no.

No, he repeated, incredulous. He made an effort to gather himself. "At least take Amaris. I don't think I should-."

She wanted to go over to him, to touch him. But if she did she would lose her resolve. "She loves you, Fiyero and you love her. And its not as though you would let harm come to her. Why should I interfere with that? If you feel you got things wrong with the others, this can be your chance to make amends, and she doesn't need to know any of that."

He started to say something but she cut him off, "Don't stand there and tell me that you didn't mean to, that it was all a mistake. You do yourself and me a disservice with that bs. Go and take your child, and live your life and leave me be."

"But Fae-."

"No, Fiyero. You could at least use my real name. I left that one behind ages ago," she told him, making her voice harsh, feigning irritation.

"Alright," he told her and then was gone.


	48. Chapter 48

Quadling hell in the fall. He wouldn't have known the difference if not for the shortening days. The ground was just as clingy and waterlogged as ever; the air as steamy. A year and a half had passed since he turned his back on the Kells for the second time in his life.

A year and a half of dead ends and false leads, to the location of his family. There was a limestone quarry closeby affording solid rumors of Manek and Nor. He was torn: feeling exhilarated and hopeful to be so close to his other children, and angry that they should be forced into brutal labor.

Amaris toddled back and forth, jabbering happily away to herself, to him. It could work, he tried to convince himself. This plan he had worked out. He had been watching the prison camp for some weeks now, and knew the guards routine well. He knew also, where the two children were located on the inside. He couldn't believe his luck that they should be in the same place.

* * *

Nor was nearly twelve now, and she was one of several girls the overseer had taken a liking to. She closed her eyes and hummed to herself as she waited for him. Maybe he wouldn't show up, she indulged herself in thinking, maybe tonight he would pass her by.

But he didn't, he never had.

He crushed her small body beneath his own and roughly plunged into her. She took a small pleasure in knowing that she wasn't one of the two other girls in the room forced to watch and wait for their turn to be abused.

"You're going to be a busy girl tonight, he told her, nearly gagging her with his pungent breath. Some foreigner is stopping in, pay a pretty penny fer a Winkie bitch like you. One of your kind, ugly as sin but what is that to filth like you? He's feeling homesick. You gonna warm him up real good, I bet." He laughed gratingly.

But she didn't notice much, drifting on her own thoughts.

She was eventually shuttled from this room to the next to repeat the exercise. As she was hauled away she stole a glance at the other two girls. The older one kept her eyes firmly on the floor while the younger gave her an imploring look.

_Good luck with that_, she thought bitterly.

There was little ceremony on the matter. She was just pushed through inside and locked in.

"Make yourself comfortable, I reserved you for the whole night," her payer said. He spoke slowly and delibritely but with a strange accent that made him difficult to understand. He kept his back to her and wore a veiled djellaba despite the humidity.

There was a baby in the corner, she suddenly noticed._ What kind of freak was she in with?_

"You should know I've been searching for you and your brother for a very long time."

"My brother! What do you want with my brother?"

"I come from the village of Red Windmill. I set out sometime ago in search of our royal family. At last my fortune has changed."

But she wasn't buying what he was selling. "So you have bought me for one night? A wise course."

He chuckled softly. "It is wonderful to know you still have some spunk, I can hardly admit to the same. Of course, I am planning to take the two of you with me. There is a guard shift at midnight. We just have to get your brother by that time."

And then what? You'll sell us again? Ransom us to our countrymen. I'll take my chances with these ruffians, thank you."

"Nor, you must trust me. We are the proud Arjiki and I am a man of my word."

"I can hardly trust a man who will not look me in the eye."

He sighed heavily and finally turned to face her. "I beg you to remember me as I was, not as this shadow," he said sounding now as in pain.

"What?"

He pushed back the hood and dropped the veil. The first thing Nor noticed was the blue diamonds etched on his face denoting his elevated status in the tribe. The second thing was that he still wouldn't look at her.

"Daddy," she whispered. She was beside herself all of a sudden. But now was not the time for joyful exclaimations or anguished histironics. "What has happened? Who has done this to you?"

"The same people who took you from your home, who sent you here."

"Manek is on the other side, closer to the quarry. Where he works during in the days. I was set to...entertain the officers."

"Yes I know. We have three hours to get as far away as we can. I hope that no one will notice until morning, but we may not be that lucky." He started to say more and gave her a strange look.

"What is it," she asked, feeling uncertain for the first time.

"I was hoping, and I know I have no right to ask such a thing of you..."

"What are you talking about?"

"This might not go well, if something happens I want to know that," he broke off again, reluctant almost.

It was getting on her nerves. "What?"

"Will you forgive me for what happened? That I was not there, for your life, and to protect you and the family when those men came?"

"It doesn't look like you had much a choice."

"There is always a choice."

"I don't understand. What do you mean?" She looked at the baby and wondered where it came from and if that was what he meant. But then those horrible scars... None of it added up. She shook her head in confusion.

"I'll explain it later, if we can get away. Now, come. I'm going to need your help rescuing your brother."

"Alright," she said, without hesitation.


	49. Chapter 49

Passing through a series of small cabins filled with prisoner/slaves, Fiyero fought to control his anger. Nor had been used as a whore; Manek forced into hard labor. And both of them children. But he needed to keep a cool head.

He made his way to the boys cabin and snuck in. His heart pounded wildly, he seemed to be able to hear it. This was proving easier than he anticipated. Being around Elphaba so long had equiped him with paranoia: it was _too_ easy.

_But how could they know he was here? _

He forced himself to focus and searched through the masses with just a candle. Curses and grumblings flew at him.

It seemed hours went by before he found his son, and even the slightest noises caused his heart to skip. He snatched the sleeping boy by the arm and hauled him to his feet. The boy swung at him with both fists. Some of the others were waking.

In an all or nothing gamble, Fiyero seized the boy by the back of the neck and forced him to walk._ It had to look real_. They made it as far as outside without altercation and Fiyero allowed himself to breath easier.

Dropping his guard was a mistake. Manek broke free and began to raise all sorts of hell. Fiyero caught up with him again and clamped his hand over the boy's mouth. "Idiot boy, can't you see I'm trying to rescue you?" But some guards were already taking notice of the commotion.

Fiyero swore loudly and pushed the boy down in the mud before dropping into it himself. Follow me, he whispered urgently and crawled underneath the cabin. Mercifully the boy obeyed. Fiyero started rubbing the mud all over him and Manek looked at him like he was crazy.

"What if they have dogs? We need to mask our scent," Fiyero explained. Manek still looked dubious but did the same anyway.

Fiyero's fears were not unfounded. He could hear the baying of hounds alarmingly close. He silently prayed to Lurline that Nor be safe and the focus be on them. Just as she was doing, they began their long wait. "If we manage to make it out of here alive", he said to Manek, "we'll meet your sister in the morning in the marshes. I sent her to a spot I know well. Lets hope and pray that she made it and stays safe."

* * *

Nor waited on pins and needles, in the gloom of the marshes.

"Wait until sunrise and if we don't meet you head straight West and don't stop until you reach the Cloister of Saint Glinda in the Shale Shallows. There you will be safe," her father told her. And then he kissed her forehead and went in search of Manek.

She fled into the marshes taking Amaris with her, moving quickly as possible. This was not an easy thing as her feet sank into the mud and greatly hindered her progress. More than once she had to pull herself out of the muck by way of a low tree branch. This was made all the harder by the baby she was stuck carrying. She ducked into the hollow of a large tree, which looked to be the designated spot he had described to her. There she reflected:

Her father was alive. After all this time. Where had he been? Her own experience had been bad enough.

_But someone had carved up his face! Why and what for?_

Nor didn't quite understand the many ways of breaking a spirit. She let out the breath she had been holding and began the long wait for them to join her.

There was a bag with small bits of fruit for the baby. Nor shook a handful out and let Amaris pick at them. That was another mystery. Where had the baby come from? She didn't know enough about babies to gage Amaris' age. Maybe Mama was hiding in the Cloister of Saint Glinda and Nor was to meet her there? And this was a new baby sister? But why had Daddy brought the baby along in the first place? Maybe Mama was sick somewhere and couldn't care for her? Or maybe those horrible soldiers had burnt her up the way they burnt poor Irji? Nor shivered despite the heat and steam and focused on tending the baby.

The sun began to peek around the horizon, Nor watched with growing dread. They hadn't been able to escape. She didn't know what to do. Sure, she had her instructions, but could she follow them? Could she really abandon Manek and Daddy? And would she be able to survive; keep Amaris alive until the Shale Shallows?

She lingered there long after she should have been gone, begging Lurline that they would somehow find her. She started to cry. The journey ahead seemed impossible and not only that: she couldn't bear to leave them behind.

"Oh thank Lurline, you're still here," she heard her father say. For a moment she thought it was imagined, but he came out of the fog, with Manek at his heels. Both of them were filthy, covered in mud and swamp offal. A little worse for the wear, but that hardly mattered. She let Amaris drop to the ground and the baby protested as vigorously as ever. Nor ran forward and hugged her father. He pulled Manek into it and held them both there for several beats.

"What a fool I've been," he said, sighing.

But the dogs were howling in the distance and time was still short. "Change of plans," he told them. "If the rumors are true, then Munchkinland is a free state now, under Nessarose Thropp. We make it over the border, we should be safe. She's an old college friend, at any rate, I can probably use that to be granted clemency."


	50. Chapter 50

Colwen Grounds. A gilded cage if there ever was. Certainly Elphaba felt trapped. A life of servitude...in thrall to tragic Nessarose, who refused to relinquish Elphaba's own birthright.

"Why, Miss Elphaba, aren't you the sight for sore eyes," a familiar voice said softly, pulling her from her reverie.

Elphab looked up to see Glinda walking towards her. Her spirits lifted somewhat and she went to meet her old friend.

"Oh Elphie, I've missed you so. Where have you been all this time?"

"Oh, I've been here and there."

"Isn't it so wonderful, Nessa has done so well here. She's really rising to the occasion."

Elphaba wished she could smile, and feel happy for her sister, but she just didn't have it in her. She wondered if this was being ungrateful.

"Crope mentioned he saw you around Emerald City, but that was a few years ago. But he wouldn't say much, and believe me I know how to pry," Glinda told her, giving her an inquisitive look.

Elphaba began walking, forcing herself to move slower to accomodate Glinda, who was struggling in that ridiculous gown. "My services were needed. It turned out better than I expected but there always comes a time when you have to let things go."

"But what-"

"It's not important," Elphaba cut her off, "Look there's Nessa."

Nessarose sat ahead of them, resting on a bench in the garden, lovely and prim as always. The very roses seemed to quail in thrall to her beauty. _Or maybe my hawkishness that causes them to shrink_, Elphaba thought bitterly.

"My those shoes are looking rather ragged, don't you think so, Elphaba?" Glinda said out of the blue.

_It was true_, Elphaba realized. They had lost much of their original luster and were decidely shabby. She felt a twinge of bitter satisfication at the sight of this.

But Glinda continued, "I think I can do something about that."

"What," Elphie snapped.

But Glinda just flashed her a vapid smile and swept toward Nessarose. She knelt in the grass, her head ducking in the semblance of genuflection.

Elphaba watched with growing dismay as they seemed to mend of their own accord. She gave Glinda a cold look as the latter got to her feet, and said stiffly, "How fortunate that you are here. They look as good as new."

Glinda looked bemused at her expression but carried on blithely, "Thats not all. Stand up Nessa." But Nessa fixed her in a cool gaze and said nothing. Glinda's grin faltered but very briefly. I added a little personal flourish. Now, come, come Nessie. Stand up.

"Surely you jest," Nessa asked.

"I should say that is a tasteless and cruel joke," Elphaba hissed.

"You just did," Glinda told her, trying to deflect.

But Elphaba ignored it. "I am surprised at you. That's petty and mean. How dare you taunt Nessa like that?"

Glinda's smile became patronizing and shifted from sister to sister. "Oh ye of little faith. Nessa, you can. Just trust me."

And Nessa did, slowly and with a monumental implication she rose.

Glinda bounced on her heels giddily.

But in watching her sister, the word that came to Elphaba's mind was snake. For the first time in her life she was speechless.

Nessa sighed wearily, wearingly. "Oh Elphaba, that is just like you. To rain on my parade."

But Elphaba had already turned away from them. She strode away in agitation.

"Oh my," Glinda could be heard to say, "I hardly expected her to react that way."

Those shoes, _those damn shoes_! Always coming into the light to plague her. The nerve of that little bitch Glinda.

She was the older sister. She could easily claim to this god-forsaken country, and then the Wizard would have a force to reckon with. She smiled a little at the concept. But then reality set in.

This was Nessa, and her life was so difficult, why deny her the rights? It would give her some confidence. Like Amaris to Fiyero, a purpose to life.

Her thoughts turned to him for the hundred-billionth time since he left. The poor, suffering man. "Where are you, my love? I hope that you are finding your way."

Images flickered in the reflecting pool by which she lingered and she was bound to look. The pictures came alive in her mind:

Fiyero as a young boy surrounded by his clansmen.

Fiyero in Shiz, composed of a serenity lost in these later years.

In the Emerald City, sharing memories and her bed, challenging her worldviews, shaping her life.

Laying prone on a setup like a surgeon's table his eyes wild with fear and pain as a young man tormented him in his vulnerable state.

More recently of him broken and disfigured beyond recognition, grief-stricken as she held him near.

Later still engaged in some small game with Amaris, the both of them laughing.

She smiled sadly at the last image. _"I can't go any further than this/I want you so badly, it's my biggest wish."_

She had been wrong to indulge him so, it hindered more than helped. He could make it, with an effort. He had survived that travesty, anything else should be simple. As long as he didn't let his fear cripple him.

_"Can you meet me halfway, right at the borderline?/__That's where I'm gonna wait for you."_

The images seemed so real and she was so filled with longing that she reached out for him. The water seared her fingers like it was acid. She pulled back, dismayed and a little embarrassed at this foolishness. She wondered again where he may be and if he was well.

_"I'll be lookin' out night and day/Took my heart to the limit, and this is where I stay."_

_

* * *

_

Disclaimer: Lyrics from Meet Me Halfway by the Black Eyed Peas.

Otherwise: Yay! Fifty chapters and still going. Yay!


	51. Chapter 51

"Puppy, Amaris said brightly. Fiyero opened his eyes to see her leaning on him. "Puppy," she whispered.

"No," he whispered back. "I'm not getting you a puppy." He ruffled her hair.

"Daddy," she cried, throwing her little arms around his neck. He smiled and nuzzled his head against hers.

"I've lost my marbles," he told her in urgent tones. She backed up with an excited squeal; this was becoming a morning ritual. "You must help me find them," he gasped. She fell over giggling.

Nor watched from her spot by the fire. She worked a a fish and tarroot mash for Amaris.

Fiyero came over with Amaris clinging to his leg. He grinned at the older children and sat down. Amaris crawled into his lap.

"Where is Mama?" Nor asked.

Fiyero sighed, he had been expecting this. "I haven't been able to find your mother or her sisters. Or your older brother. It took me ages to track down you two."

"Oh," Nor said cautiously, "Irji was killed. They burned him up."

Fiyero looked at her. "He's dead?"

"Yes," Manek confirmed. "Where the hell were you, all those years?"

"Manek, please-"

"No, its alright, Nor. I deserved that. There was no excuse."

"We needed you," Manek said angrily.

Fiyero didn't know what to say. The boy glared at him for several minutes before leaving in a fury. Fiyero looked back at Nor, who stared into the small fire. She kept her eyes trained there even as she passed him the toddler's portion. "Why won't you look at me, Nor?" She didn't answer, biting her lip nervously. "Nor?" Silence. "For what its worth I'm sorry that I wasn't there to protect you. Or to be your father. I know that doesn't make it right but-"

"No it doesn't," she said finally looking at him.

He hesitated before saying, "I was young and stupid and arrogant. This," he waved his hands around his body as a whole, "cured me of that. So at least something good came of it. I'm not making excuses for myself or trying to fix it, but I swear to you that I will do right by you from here on."

"Irji is dead. Mama is gone. And those men...they hurt me," Nor said. "Can you change that?"

"No," he told her. "I know let everyone down. None of this ever would have happened if I hadn't betrayed your mother's trust. I let myself be distracted."

"What do you mean?"

He thought of Elphaba standing in their small den in the Scrow camp, declaring herself one of them. And of Jemmsy and those endless asinine comments amidst blinding torture and said nothing.

"Daddy what happened to you?"

"It's nothing you need to worry about."

Nor sighed and looked frustrated. "I was only her age," she said pointing at Amaris,"But I remember how strong and brave you used to be."

"I thought I was," he corrected her. "I thought nobody could ever get to me. But that was just hubris."

"Where did she come from?"

He looked down at Amaris. How was he going to explain her? But then Nor spared him. Somewhat.

"I don't like you very much anymore."

"You don't have to."

She shook her head. "You rescued us from the labor camp and I suppose we owe you for that."

"You don't owe me anything Nor."

"I can't speak for Manek, but I will stay with you at least. I am grateful, even if...," but she wouldn't finish. Not that he didn't know what she was thinking.

* * *

Killyjoy came and flopped in the grass beside Elphaba, laying his head in her lap. She sighed and allowed it, even warmed to it. Apparently he had more integrity than the human population around here. She relaxed and scratched his ears, her anger evaporating into thin air.

That is, until:

"Oh, Elphie. I had no idea that you would get so upset."

Her fingers tightened on the back of his neck and he yelped in protest. She whipped around to face Glinda and he skittered away.

"Elphie, please. _They are just shoes. _And Nessie is just so happy to have them. Don't you see how ridiculous your being?"

Elphaba blinked in surprise and looked suitably mortified. "Why, you're right. Of course, Nessa deserves them. How callous of me."

"Oh thank goodness, finally your seeing some reason-"

"Toadying bitch."

"Oh dear, now that's uncalled for."

"I already gave her the keys to the kingdom. What now? Perhaps I should just slit my throat and let her lap at the blood."

"I feel a headache coming on."

"Wouldn't want that."

Glinda sighed and began fanning her face in earnest. She was giving Elphaba a somber look.

"I see who you are," Elphaba said, jabbing her finger in Glinda's direction. "You were all ready to be chummy with me back at Shiz, but that was back when I was set to be the Eminent Thropp. And now here you are playing bosom buddies with Nessarose."

"That's not true," Glinda gasped, turning pale. Killyjoy lowered his head and his lips receded into a snarl. Glinda gave him a frightened glance. "Oh dear, Elphie call off your dog."

"Hah! It seems I'm not the only one who sees through that laquered and primped disguise. On the subject of being ridiculous..." But she turned toward Killyjoy and stifled him with a wave of her hand. He came and sat at her feet but continued to glare up at Glinda with a look unnervingly like his mistress's. "I ought to warn Nessa about you. First chance you get that knife will go into her back."

"But I-"

Elphaba drew herself up, it was as if she suddenly had an ephihany. "Why are you here anyway? Aren't you one of the Wizard's lackey's? Consorting with the enemy?"

"Now hold on-"

"I can have you arrested for sedition. But rest assured I am not like the Wizard. I will merely have you deported."

"Elphaba please, there is no reason-"

"Get out of my sight. Get out of this garden, and stay the hell away from my sister!"


	52. Chapter 52

"We're surrounded by fools and simpering charlatans. That damn Galinda, what a farce. I have half a mind to track her down and strangle her with her own-"

"Oh Elphaba, will you please give it a rest? She did me a great service."

"Hah! You're worse than Fiyero, thinking everything is just peaches and cream while in the meantime all hell is breaking loose."

"I am beginning to think that being completely insufferable is a terminal condition for you."

"Well...you should know."

"Exactly what I meant, tighten my corset will you?"

Elphaba sighed. There really was no one else to do this. Sure Glinda had enchanted the shoes, making Nessa more capable, but she was still fairly helpless.

_"Oh, what a hideous prospect for a life."_

_"I couldn't agree more."_

She sighed again, remembering that ancient conversation with Glinda. About this very thing. She had once been her sister's keeper, and was again. Always would be. Poor Nessa. It was how it was. She struggled to accept reality but it was so daunting.

(You'll rescue me right?/In the exact same way they never did.../I'll be happy right?/When your healing powers kick in)

_There must be something,_ Fiyero asked himself. Amaris slept sound, using his shoulder as a pillow. She murmured in her dreams. "There must be something good about me, if you can love me," he said, kissing her sweaty forehead.

Manek was gone, not totally unexpected. There was too much strife for the fifteen year-old. Fiyero hoped that maturity would change his mind.

Nor was still here, but it was clear she only felt obligated.

There were too many mistakes. He tried to reason with himself. He had only been twenty-three and with the arrogance of youth. When the right sort of temptation came along, he was helpless to resist.

_Where in Oz was Sarima? Sweet Lurline, I'd give anything to make this right. _And he knew he meant it. He'd give up happiness with Elphaba, to make amends. If only he could rescue Sarima. If only he could bring Irji back. If only he could have protected them all.

(You'll complete me right?/Then my life can finally begin/I'll be worthy right?/Only when you realize the gem I am?)

Day in, day out, Elphaba passed through this menial, meaningless existence. At her sister's right hand, hardly a worthy position.

Nessa needed her hair brushed. Please, Elphaba, I have such a migraine, would you be so kind to sit in on the meeting with the financiers? Elphie, be so kind to draw back that curtain, it's so dark in here and I really need to be able to read this.

Once even she had attended some parlor meeting and the Wizard himself was present. Of course he was hidden by a portable screen that drew attention more than deflected it, but she could imagine his smug look on the other side.

She felt like screaming. But it was plain to see that Nessa couldn't manage these things on her own. So she may as well grin and bear it.

(But this won't work now the way it once did/And I won't keep it up even though I would love to/Once I know who I'm not then I'll know who I am/But I know I won't keep on playing the victim)

Nor sat on the edge of a small boulder, eating her breakfast. Fiyero watched her, scratching the lines of her profile into a bit of parchment. She turned her head to look at him and he held it out for her.

She accepted and studied the picture. She looked back up and flashed a smile that failed to reach her eyes. He pretended not to notice.

(This ring will help me yet as will you knight in shining armor/This pill will help me yet as will these boys gone through like water/But this won't work as well as the way it once did/Cuz I want to decide between survival and bliss/And though I know who I'm not I still don't know who I am/But I know I won't keep on playing the victim)

A small, otherwise nondescript bird flitted on the windowsill early one morning. Elphaba spared a glance in its direction. It started at her presence and was gone again.

_Oh to fly away from this..._

She shook her head with a grim disillusionment. Nessa needed her, that was painfully obvious. How could she even consider leaving again?

(These precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was a kid/And parting with them is like parting with a childhood best friend)

"You know you don't have to stay with me. You're free to do what ever you want," he told Nor. She shrugged, as if to say it made no difference. "I think we made it. I'm not sure but I think this is officially Munchkinland."

"Do you think Manek made it here on his own?"

"I don't know."

"I hope Mama is okay."

Fiyero sighed. "Me too. I wish I could find her. I guess I'll keep looking. But at least you're safe."

She turned to him. "You're leaving?"

"I have to find her. Or find out what happened to her."

"I'm not surprised. It's what you do."

"Nor...," but he let it go. "Keep to the road. It'll lead straight to Colwen Grounds."

Nor looked down at her feet. "Follow the Yellow Brick Road," she mumbled in a singsong way.

But Fiyero went on, not sure if she was listening. "Ask for Nessarose. Use my name if you have to. She probably thinks I'm dead but we were friends at the University. She'll help you out."

(I've spent so long firmly looking outside me/I've spent so much time living in survival mode/This won't work now the way it once did/Cuz I want to deside between survival and bliss/Now I know who I'm not/I don't I still don't know who I am/But I know I won't keep on playing the victim)

The girl came up the way. Elphaba was the first to see her. Killyjoy twisted around her legs and ran out joyfully to greet the newcomer. She paid the girl little mind, other than to note she was clearly Vinkus.

But then something gave her pause, she halted in her chores and stared into the girl's face. The girl froze staring back. Elphaba checked herself, she knew she wasn't exactly welcoming material. But her mouth ran away from her. "Sweet Oz, you look so like him."

Nor was relieved. The strange green woman recognized her somewhat. "Are you Nessarose?"

But Elphaba didn't hear the question. "Is he well? Is he alive? Is he..._here_?" She jumped to her feet and looked at the road behind. "Where is he," she demanded, perhaps a little too harshly. "Tell me girl, where is your father?"

But Nor remembered what he told her just before they parted. "My father is dead."

Elphaba turned nearly white. "_What!_"

"I need to find Nessarose. Are you her?"

Elphaba forced composure. "No, she is my sister. You will find her inside." And then she realized something. "Wait, who told you to ask for her?"

Nor clammed up. She had no explanation. She may not_ like _her father anymore, but she had to care for him. And here she may have endangered him. She stared at the woman in shock, struggling to think of what to say.

"Which way did you come? Tell me now, now, now!"

Not knowing what else to do, Nor pointed vaguely in that direction.

Elphaba tore past her._ He was here! He was so close! But it would be just my luck to just have missed him. Oh Lurline, you Unnamable God, Time Dragon, whoever, whatever, please let me find him!_

(These precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was defenseless/And parting with them is like parting with invisible best friends)

She was exhausted beyond words, having run for hours, calling his name. But she was so desperate that she didn't even consider how ridiculous she looked or the folly of her actions. She collapsed in the middle of the road. It was hopeless, of course, and she had no idea how she would get back. She slumped over even more, covering her face with her hands.

"Elphaba," she heard him call. But she knew she was just imagining it. She was so worn out by the exertion and worn down by these last few months of bondage to Nessa. That wasn't really Fiyero who lifted her from the brick pavement. There was no one here, and she was just dreaming...dreaming. That wasn't his shoulder she rested her head on, not his neck around which she entwined her arms.

It was too much to hope for, and hope didn't exist in her world. But she fell asleep embracing the illusion.

(These precious illusions in my head did not let me down when I was a kid/And parting with them is like parting with childhood best friends)


	53. Chapter 53

The dream was too sweet. And the reality too harsh. There was no force in Oz that would wake her up. Yero my Hero, she whispered. It was late fall and the cold was coming in. But this blanket was plush and warm and she just felt so safe. She snuggled down into it, burying her face into its folds. She slept by the fire for hours on end.

Eventually, she indulged further into the dream and sat up to look at him. "I went looking for you," she told him.

"I noticed," he replied.

"I knew if I gave you your space, and waited long enough you would find your way back to me."

"You're out there, looking for forgiveness, I suppose. And now this is the part where you're seeking it from the most difficult, unforgiving person in your life."

Fiyero sighed, irritated that she still didn't understand. "Sarima is not that bad. I mean, sure she wasn't the most pleasant wife there was but that was harsh."

But Elphaba wasn't thinking about Sarima. The other woman was actually far from her mind. She knew well how hard it was for someone to forgive themself over real or imagined sins. But she changed the subject: "Although I love how it almost seems that we haven't been apart. Did you realize its Lurlinemas?"

He gave her a questioning smile. "I thought you didn't go for religious feast days?"

"People change," she said, giving him a sideways glance but grinning.

"Finally, we can celebrate it together," he told her. But, she remembered, a few had passed unnoticed since they were reunited. She decided not to mention it; he just looked so happy. She leaned forward to kiss him. But he looked hesitant and backed up a little. "I'm afraid that if I let myself get in the way I might not be able to finish what I need to do."

She gave him a smile to show it was okay, although she was a little sad. But she did understand. "Alright."

He took a deep breath as if steeling himself and said, "I have to find Sarima." His brusqueness startled her but he probably reasoned it would soften the blow.

She sighed. She had gotten lucky that he was around, but this was a chance encounter not a reunion. "We are not children anymore. We are getting older. And I have little use for juvenile fancies. But it is wonderful to see you."

"I agree. You brought me out of the darkness and gave me my life back and then when all was said and done you loved me enough to send me away, even if that's not what I wanted." Again, he looked like he was trying to gather himself to say something else. "I know it was Lurlinemas Eve that they came for me and that will always darken it but I'm feeling like I could really enjoy just spending the day with you and Amaris."

She smiled at him and touched the side of his face. He turned his head and kissed her palm.

"I'm so proud of you, Fiyero. You've come a long way."

He tilted his head slightly, trying to remember. "My memories of that time are vague. I was so out of it, anyway. But I knew someone was there holding my hand, on some level. I don't know if I knew it was you. Or if I knew anything at all. Everything was so scrambled, I was mad. I don't know how else to describe it," he said, shaking his head.

"You're upsetting yourself," she interrupted.

"Oh but its okay. Its seeming more and more like just a bad dream. I look back and I see it was the slow and complete breakdown of my sense of who I was. I was the best hunter in the tribe, the leader of my people but yet capable enough of to survive among the elite of Emerald City. I could fell deer from fifty yards away," at this she looked skeptical but he ignored it, "and I could put on my opera cape and head out for the theatre. And they both came easily."

She listened intently to this seemingly pointless dialogue.

"But they efficiently and deliberately stripped me of my arrogance and then some. I thought I was somehow superior. And then I was terrified of them, they did their job well." He paused for breath and she waited for him to continue. "I can't even describe how ashamed I was with myself. I mean, to have been that arrogant and to be brought just as low as a person can be. Do you know? Can you imagine?"

But she didn't answer, what could she say anyway?

And so he went on: "Anyway, it was just beyond me. Somehow, I sensed you though. It gave me something to cling to during that. It was weird, I wanted to die, and I wanted to live and I was just so out of it." He glanced in Amaris' direction, but she was fast asleep in her little blanket bundle, so he relaxed.

"I know."

"How can you make some one eat, when they have no hope?"

She was surprised. "You remember that?"

"I remember how patient you were. I remember that my throat felt raw, and I couldn't stop coughing sometimes, and that only made the pain worse. And it was so damn hot I could hardly stand it."

"You were fevered," she explained to him. "And you had come very close to starving to death, among any number of other things."

"I'm so glad that you found me. I don't know...maybe I would have died. Or who knows. If I hadn't had you there pushing me the way you did, I don't think I would have recovered like this."

"Why don't we talk about something else? I mean, it is supposed to be a happy day."

He started laughing. "This coming from you? Elphie, really? Are we getting in the spirit?"

She scowled at him. "You're reading too much into it. I just want you to enjoy yourself."

"Oh is that all?"

"Do shut up, Fiyero."

He grinned at her. "You're not fooling anyone."

"I _said, _we ought to change the subject."

He raised his hands a little, accepting defeat. "I love you."

"A likely story," she retorted, but she was smiling too now. "And I love you."

"Ah, what the hell," he said, shedding his reticience on the matter, and kissed her vigorously.

"Well its about damn time," she teased him.

"Touché."

Yes, the dream was sweet...

* * *

Hope you guys enjoy my little holiday chapter. Yay for Lurlinemas!

And for those who were wondering, Elphaba's not really dreaming this, she's just afraid she might be.


	54. Chapter 54

But it was over all too soon. "I don't want you to go," she told him.

"I wish I could stay. But I have to do this." He was clearly struggling with his decision to find Sarima.

"Its not safe. You can stay in Munchkinland and no one will ever bother you."

He sighed and she could tell he was considering it. But then he said, "Everyone who could possibly threaten me thinks I'm dead. They have no reason to be looking for me."

"Yes but what if someone does recognize you and they take you away again?"

"I've learned a few things these past couple of years. I managed a prison break for two people, _and_ with a baby in tow."

"I want you to be safe. Please stay in Munchkinland, you'll be safe here." Tears began scorching twin tracks as they ran down her face. "You didn't listen before and everything went so badly. Just listen to me."

Well, if that didn't make him feel like an ass. Elphaba, of all people, crying in front of him.

He always felt useless, ineffectual, as far as everything went: Sarima, the children, the tribe, even with Elphaba._ "We needed you," _Manek had told him. And that was the truth, but he had always been blind to it. Even with her standing here, he knew if he could do it all over again, he would've just walked away from her that day. He had missed everything, not least of which his children growing into adolescence. And then the royal family was abducted, the village sacked. All because he failed to protect them.

And here was Elphaba, the strongest person he had ever met, in tears, as they parted yet again. Perhaps not needing him, but wanting him and loving him.

Obviously, the Wizard and his lackeys saw something he didn't and knew it was time to take action.

Also, he hated to see her like this. He wished his past mistakes would just solve themselves and he _could_ stay. Bu t Sarima was waiting somewhere for him, either to be rescued or six-feet under. He had to make amends, or at the least bring the truth back to Nor. "I have to make things right. I need to know."

She nodded and tried to regain some of her composure. "You must come back to me. I'll die if you don't."

"Fae..." He pulled her closer, feeling her heart beat, taking in the faint remnants of her perfume. This wasn't making it any easier for him. But it was what she would do and if he considered himself worthy of her... "I'll keep safe for you. I've got too much to live for, then and now. Except now I see it. You have my word, I'll come back to you."

She pulled away and straightened herself, looking strong and fearless again. But her eyes were sad. "And I'll be waiting."

* * *

Short and sweet, I know. Soon to flash forward a few more years, and a storm is brewing. Yes, of course _that_ storm.


	55. Chapter 55

_This wind might just be the death of us. _

Fiyero lost his footing yet again and in an instant the stinging sands were half-way up his shins. He bit back an oath to spare Amaris' ears.

She was going on three years old now but luckily still fit into the harness he made to carry her, shortly following her birth. That simple contraption was a godsend if there was. She chattered on wrapped up into the folds of his djellaba, fairly oblivious to the storm going on.

He struggled to regain his feet. He would have never thought his search for Sarima would send him into the Thursk Desert headed for Fliaan. The hood and veil shielded most of his face, something which he was very glad for.

The wind came on harder. He took shelter beneath a limestone crag, turning away from the storm. For a time, he let his exhaustion win.

He woke suddenly because Amaris started to fidget and whine. It was dark here, but he knew it was around midday. They had been buried, at least partially. He could move, so that was a good sign. He craned his head around to look. Sand had piled up to the top of this small his attention back to the fretting toddler, he shushed her and stretched out his stiff limbs. He took a small trowel and began to clear away the sand.

There was an alarmed squawk and sounds of something too heavy to scurry away attempting to do just that.

He crawled out, shading his eyes against the glaring sun to find a Griffen regarded him with a sharp yellow eye. "Hungry," she told him.

"We're not dead." They were at least carrion eaters, or so he had heard.

"Buried," she pointed out.

He glanced down at the talons clearly visible on her four paws. "It was an accident."

She smiled at him, much as a Griffen was capable of. "Have accident. Nyslt eat."

"Not today."

She frowned in the same manner that she had smiled, and swished her tail, irritated. "Have accident," she insisted.

He sighed and looked back in the direction that he had been travelling. Apparently the stories were true, even the smart Griffens were-

Nyslt lunged at him, headbutting him square in the back. Amaris screamed at the top of her lungs, splitting his ears in two, at this injustice. Fiyero spat a mouthful of sand and blood, and picked himself off the ground as the Griffen trotted around in front of him. She then made it clear she was very sad that he was still alive. He got back to his feet which only made her wail even harder.

Her claws were very long and very sharp, and no doubt her teeth were as well. It was easy not to feel sorry for her absurd predicament. But he was careful not to look away a second time. He started to walk away, looking back at her every few paces, while trying to soothe the screaming, flailing child. It seemed Amaris grew heavier by the second as she made it very clear that she was not pleased with the circumstances. He almost laughed.

Nyslt deigned to follow him, now eager once more, trotting merrily along, waiting for him to drop. He shook his head in utter disbelief and pretended to ignore her.

Some hours passed like this. The sun began to set and Nyslt suddenly became dejected at his refusal to die. By now, what fear he had of her was completely gone. _Sweet Lurline, what an irritating beast! All their victims must be annoyed to death._ "Have accident," she pleaded mournfully. He continued to ignore her.

He managed to find a lone mule deer, lame and struggling, abandoned by its herd obviously. He wounded it further with one of his throwing knives, striking true in the neck. It found some final strength and bounded away. But he knew it couldn't get far, and _anyone_ could follow _that_ blood trail.

It expired a mere twenty yards away and he was closing in, ready to start carving it up when Nyslt suddenly claimed the kill. "Accident," she said, standing over the carcass. She turned her head in his direction and gave him a look that said, If he wasn't going to die to suit her than he _had_ to feed her. Vexing as she was, who was he to argue with a beast twice his size?

After she had fed for some while, he approached the carcass but with great caution. He had a baby to feed, after all and his own stomach was rumbling. Nyslt continued her feast, but eyed him. It was enough to give him pause. But he was able to cut a sufficient piece from an untouched flank.

The people he had met while passing through the Ugabu district had been kind and provided plenty of supplies. With some of his store, he was able to build a decent enough fire to roast the meat.

While he was watching Amaris feed herself, Nyslt came closer and flumped in the sand on the opposite side of the fire. The toddler paused and watched the Griffen with something like wonder. Nyslt turned her back on them and faced the desert. She was snoring a few minutes later.

He stared at the sleeping beast, still highly unnerved by its presence. After awhile he sighed, resiging himself somewhat. The Griffen clearly intended to stay. "She can be our watchdog. That is if she doesn't kill us," he explained to Amaris.

"Okay," the toddler replied.

* * *

Written pretty much on a whim. I figured Fiyero and baby shouldn't go it completely alone, and this is what came of that idea. Trying to move things in a lighter direction than the previous doom and gloom.


	56. Chapter 56

Having a Griffen cling to your side was not such a bad thing. She certainly kept any would be robbers at bay. In the weeks of travelling through the desert, Fiyero became acclimated to her presence. He sat leaning against the trunk of a foreign tree and slept in its shade, Amaris resting at his side.

He woke sometime later to see Nsylt laying a few yards away. She was awake and alert though. Amaris amused herself with a nest of wogglebugs. He smiled, watching her. He went over and stretched out in the sand. He took a bit of grass and teased the edge of one of the little holes. She stopped and watched what he was doing with great interest, giggling when the bugs began flipping sand up. The sound was so infectious that he laughed along every time.

"Ah little girl, I love you."

"I love you too, Daddy," she said, hugging his neck and planting a wet kiss on the side of his head.

He sighed. "Sometimes I think you take care of me." He teased her hair and turned back to the game. For now, at least all thought of the task at hand was forgotten. She picked up a twig and proceeded to demolish a few of the little burrows. Like this, he said taking her hand and helping her. "See: you have to be really careful." More sand was flipped out at them and she burst into giggles. He sat up and watched her play.

After awhile, he gently pulled one out and held it in his hand. "Here," he said, pushing it at her.

"No Daddy!" She backed away squealing.

"What? Look: its so small." She came back a few steps, staring curiously at it. "You can touch it. They don't bite." She touched it quickly with the tip of her index finger and ran backwards so fast she tangled her feet together. He laughed at her to keep her from crying.

The desert had been a monster. But what was ahead seemed little better. The air grew heavy with moisture, more so than in Quadling territory. Dry sand gave way to dense vegetation.

_This must be the beginning of Fliaan,_ Fiyero told himself. He stood on the edge for a moment. Far behind was Oz, and everything he knew. It was a dangerous place, of course, but at least it was recognizable. A fool's errand. Would he even find Sarima? He had no clue what he was in for and was painfully aware of that fact. Had he been travelling with others one of them may have told him not to enter in Fliaan through the rainforest. It housed some of the deadliest creatures in the whole country, and the most treacherous had already taken notice of his presence.

* * *

_It was raining again!_ But it was so hot that the steam was rising off everything.

Amaris became sick, unable to keep anything in her stomach. Fiyero tried to stay calm in light of this. She had never been sick before that he could remember. Not even in that ill-concieved attempt to ride out the winter in a Vinkus cave.

Nsylt pushed on ahead, clearing a path for him and he followed.

This was proving to be a really bad idea. A lead on Sarima's whereabouts had brought him to Fliaan but he had no real notion of what to do now, and hadn't really been prepared for a different climate. And now he had put both of them in jeapordy. Elphaba would know what to do. He cursed at himself for thinking such a thing. It was thoughts like those that caused him more grief than anything else. Instead of saving himself from the barracks he had waited for her to rescue him. That kind of codependent relationship just wasn't healthy for either of them. He knew he needed to find his own way out of this.

Amaris became listless and whined a lot. He tried not to worry too much and keep moving in Nsylt's wake. Bird calls and the cries of unseen creatures came from the canopy above. Fiyero tried to distract himself from the fact that his legs were growing too heavy to move, the pain blooming between his eyes, the way Amaris wasn't moving. He listened to the chorus. The sudden urge to just lay down and sleep nearly bested him. His eyes refused to stay open but he trudged on. He struggled against the fatigue and focused on Nsylt's hind quarters as she plowed ahead. Her lion's tail swished in a hypnotic rhythm and it did little to improve his condition. Her image blurred and split in two.

But before could react to that new development, he tripped over an obvious rock. Amaris whimpered feebly. For once, he found himself wishing she would cry. He pushed himself up on elbows and knees. He nodded off a bit in that position.

But then Nsylt's beak seized the collar of his tunic and hauled to his feet. "Not have accident," she squawked at him.

"I can't go any further," he told her, the words slurring together. He leaned against her flank and almost fell asleep again. She tugged at his arm.

"No sleep. Have accident."

"I'm sorry," he whispered, hugging Amaris tighter. "I didn't think and now I've killed us both."He fell into a vivid hallucination. A strange sweet perfume filled the air and Nsylt purred like a kitten. Several hands grabbed his arms and pulled him away from her. Pieces of old memory followed. "There were too many of them. I couldn't fight them all off," he mumbled. Someone took Amaris away and though he protested he didn't have the strength to put up a real fight. One of them waved something underneath his nose. And it had an effervescent effect. But he was too worn out for it to do much good. It seemed he was sinking into a deep black pit, but he didn't much care. His head fell on someones shoulder and that was the last thing he knew for awhile.


	57. Chapter 57

Ariadne knelt beside the traveler, holding his wrist, like she was actually trying to help. He opened his eyes a little, looking up at her. _Water_, he mouthed in his own language.

She smirked and immediately changed it to a reassuring smile. Of course he wanted water, but that would only make him feel worse. She filled a small pipkin and tipped it slowly into his mouth.

A few minutes later he began to moan, predictably. The Miasmas lay heavily upon him. She touched his arm as if to comfort; she had seen this done dozens of times, she knew the routine. Make them think they were being helped.

Someone was angry with her, though: to have set her with such a repugnant mate. _He survived whatever gave him those scars. Your children will be strong. And his own child had recovered from the Miasmas_, she was told. She tried to hide her revulsion at the look at him. She sighed and wiped his face with a damp cloth. It seemed to make a difference.

They were the Daughters of Feine and the jungle was their sanctuary but for how much longer? Travelers from Over the Sands were becoming more common. The Miasmas, the clan's only real protection, killed most that attempted to pass through the jungle. They would stumble into it, hardly aware that even the air they were breathing could be deadly. Those who survived were put to use, like this one would be soon.

He was asleep again, so she left him for the time being.

* * *

He was vaguely aware of time passing. He knew several days had gone by when he finally came around. But he still felt really run down.

There was a young woman next to where he was laying. He looked over at her. She was small, maybe five foot, like a Munchkinlander but with a lighter frame. She paid him no attention and kept working at preparing some potion. He felt dehydrated and licked his dry lips. "Please I'm very thirsty. I need some water."

But she gave no indication that she even heard him. She probably didn't understand, language differences among other things. This was a different country, after all. He sighed and let his eyes close again. The heat settled on him like a blanket and he felt sick again. Someone poured a cool liquid into his mouth. "Thank you," he whispered.

They brought Amaris to him after awhile. "Hey beautiful," he said forcing himself to sit up a little.

"Puppy," she whispered.

He smiled at her."No, I'm not getting you a puppy." He put his hand on top of her head. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"Daddy isn't feeling good?"

"Oh Daddy's okay, he's just really tired. He was worried about you."

She beamed at him. "I'm good."

"Yes, you are. Daddy's little angel." He felt himself losing strength and it became impossible to keep his eyes open. Amaris began to cry and pushed at his arm so he fought his weariness and tried to act like he was okay. But she was too smart for that.

One of them took her away and he could hear her screaming as she was removed. Some more of the juice was tipped into his mouth and he swallowed almost convulsively. He managed to keep his eyes open just enough to discern his minders. There were six or seven of them, all female and of varying ages. They were also small and fragile-looking, just like the first one he had seen, with the same light brown skin and almond shaped eyes.

He woke again and interminable time later and the light was low but for torches set at the four corners of this little platform he was on. He felt better but was afraid to push his limits.

The girl that he had seen the first time was back. He watched her work for a few minutes. "I'm such a failure. I come this and all I've accomplished is nearly getting us killed. My other children hate me. And my wife...well, I've never been a good husband to her." He glanced at her and sighed. "Its probably a good thing that you can't understand me."

"I can understand more than you think," she said unexpectedly. "You are feeling well?"

"All this time you knew what I was saying?"

"I was not allowed to speak to you, I should not even be doing it now. Mother will be angry if she finds out."

"Mother? She is your queen?"

"She is the High-Priestess of Feine."

"So this is a religious society. I've only seen women, so you're probably like Maunts...," he said thinking aloud. He was glad to find something a little familiar here.

"But you are in danger. Mother has guessed that you are a prisoner fleeing from Over the Sands. She has already sent word back to your ruler that you are here."

"What?" He tried to rise, but quickly regretted it. He held his spinning head and tried to will it to stop.

Ariadne went on with the ruse. "It is not good that you are recovering. They will be coming for you later, to keep you in chains until your people arrive for you."

"But why heal me if you're only going to send me to my death?"

"I am hardly in the position to question Mother's will."

* * *

Imprisoned again. These were noticeably better conditions than the barracks but the queen here, the 'Mother', had made it clear he would be sent back to Oz in the company of Gale Forcers. She was probably already sending word back to the Wizard. Maybe they would adopt Amaris among their little society and at least she would be safe. Even if his days were numbered.

The girl who told him his fate, came back into the yurt carrying a small platter. After waiting a few moments, as if to be sure they wouldn't be interrupted, she pulled a small pin from under her wire bracelet. She put it in his hand and whispered, "Wait an hour before you go."

"But what about the guards?"

"We have no need. The jungle is death to your kind. I will take your daughter and your beast to the rock spring at that time."

"Why are you helping me?" But she didn't answer, she just hurried back out of the yurt.

_Its a trap. The jungle is death and she is trying to lure me to mine. Maybe I'm just being paranoid? She's only trying to help. But what if we both get caught? I just can't help thinking there's something wrong with all of this._ Thoughts like those kept circling around in his head. He waited until he guessed an hour had passed. _What can I lose anyway?_

* * *

It had gone, so far, pretty smoothly, but now he found a group of them lingering closeby. He ducked into the shadow of one of their little houses and silently willed them to go. They seemed to be there for hours. He wondered how long would that girl wait for him. And if she might be intercepted. Finally they decided to move and he could start again. He made his way past the torchline little by little.

Pushing through the darkness now, his anxiety grew by the second. In the back of his mind he couldn't shake to feeling that something was wrong with this somehow. But there she was, where she said she would be, coming towards him with his daughter and passing her to him.

Nsylt grumbled by the wayside, lashing her tail around in agitated fashion. She turned her head and glared at him through one of those golden hawk's eyes, scratching at the ground, clearly on edge about something. He wondered what that was about.

But just then the girl made to return to her village but he stopped her by grabbing her wrist. "They will know you helped me. You can't go back."

"I have no choice. My life there: it's all I know. Besides, Mother is not given to violence."

"There are men coming to look for me. She may give you over to them for helping me. I'm assuming that you've never really been around men that much."

She said nothing but inclined her head slightly as if in agreement.

He nodded. "You don't know what they can do. Especially to a woman."

She looked suddenly fearful, but she couldn't really know. "I've never left. I've never been away from the Daughter's. I don't know what to do."

He didn't know why he said what he did, he could hardly take care of himself it seemed, but he found himself speaking, "I'll take care of you. I'll help you get out of this jungle and to safety."

She looked into his face, like she was searching for a lie. "You will?"

"It's my fault you're in danger. It's the least I can do."


	58. Chapter 58

She found it completely by mistake. Slinking into a dusty hideyhole nursing a terrific migrane brought on by lengthy exposure to poor, needy, _insufferable_ Nessarose.

The picture displayed a sickeningly beautiful countryside complete with an apple orchard and glistening stream. Elphaba sighed and made to shove it away. "Of all the sentimental crap. I wish I could find _**one **_thing in this god-forsaken hellhole that isn't..."

The picture shifted to a blur of negative colors and then to a mirror. She stared at her reflection in confusion for a moment. She picked it up and immediatly put it back down. She left the room in a hurry. She returned a moment later and snatched it up. It had returned to the painted image. She frowned down at it, disappointed.

"Change, she demanded." Nothing happened. She shook it. Still nothing. "Damn you, I want to see myself." Shift to the image of an alligator lazing in the muck of a bayou. She recognized the settlement of Bengdani in the backdrop. "Useless piece of crap. I said I wanted to see myself!" The picture seemed to quiver and there was a shattering sound. _Breaking glass_. This was confirmed when she gazed at her own image once again but now in a broken mirror. She let her arms drop in exasperation and the picture was of the meadow again. She made an angry noise but stuck it under arm and left the room a second time.

As (bad) luck would have it, Nessie was right there in the hallway. Before her younger sister could speak though Elphaba had thrust the picture under her nose. "Have you seen this," she blurted out.

Nessa glanced at it fleetingly. "Well, it is rather lovely."

Elphaba shook her head and waved off the comment. "Yes, yes. But I think it may be a magic picture."

Nessa gave her a inscrutable look. "Then it would certainly have no place in this house. But really it just is a picture. You are just overreacting as you always do."

Nanny bustled up to them, looking flustered. Elphaba gave her a curt nod and Nessa just ignored her. "I am sure it has properties of a mirror," Elphaba continued.

But Nanny talked over her, "Those damn peasants out there. They're on again with that revolting nickname they pinned on you."

Nessa smiled and was suddenly glowing with pride. Elphaba glared at Nanny in confusion. "The Witch of the East," Nanny said darkly.

Elphaba was speechless again, something that was becoming more common. But she quickkly recovered. "_The Witch of the East_," she screeched.

"The _Wicked_ Witch of the East," Nessa corrected her. "I was blessed with this elevated position by the Unnamed God. I consider it a worthy penance and who am I to deprive them of their little amusement?"

"My, how magnanimous of you."

Nessa's smile grew. "I _know_," she said indulgently. Nanny shot Elphaba a warning glance and Nessa went on, "But no, I have little skill in sorcery and less interest. I'm afraid if the picture does have any inherent magicks than they are beyond my ability to see."

"I suppose you're right," Elphaba admitted. But she kept it anyway. "But they're calling you a witch, Nessa. Aren't you a little concerned-"

"Oh it's a joke really. I wouldn't be taking them too seriously. And it's more of a title really."

"But Nessa, I ran into Fiyero before he disappeared," Elphaba said cautiously, "In Emerald City several years ago... He told me that you took up sorcery at Shiz. Have you considered-"

But Nessarose cut her off again. "Now I know what you're going to say, but it's just a name. I don't see why the two of you are getting so worked up about it."

"The meeting with Madame Morrible."

"Oh, is that what you're on about," Nessa said with a laugh. "That old woman tried to scare us didn't she? I look back and laugh now, but I was terrified of her way back when."

"She murdered Ama Clutch, and Dr. Dillamond."

"Well, you were always paranoid..."

"I know what I'm talking about!"

"Please Elphaba, use your _inside_ voice."

"It's too convenient. They just happen to call you a witch...Nessa you're playing right into her hands."

"You think me so naive? Elphaba give it a rest. You're hardly making sense. Nanny, I'm feeling a bit faint. I think I shall retire for a spell," Nessa said smoothly, glancing pointedly at Elphaba on the last word.

"Hold your tongue," Nanny spat at Elphaba before she could even gather a retort. They left her standing there, smoldering with anger.

* * *

Notes: Yes, yes there is a point to this chapter. It'll be clearer later.


	59. Chapter 59

The very look of him turned her stomach. She prayed to Feine for deliverance. This was a punishment, she had no doubt of that anymore. He had built up a fire, despite the heat and slept facing it. He often talked in his sleep, as he was right now, sometimes even yelling. She understood enough of his language to get by but he spoke in a weird dialect that made him sound permanently inebriated.

He rolled over onto his back suddenly, more agitated than normal tonight. She moved closer in spite of herself, it _was_ a little frightening to watch. His eyes were partly opened, the whites could be clearly seen rolling beneath their lids.

_"How long?"_

_Fiyero started at the sound of another voice. He hesitated for a few minutes, unsure of what to do. But finally he moved to the small grill and peered through so he could look across the shadowy cell adjacent to his own. He could just make out the figure of another person. It felt wonderful and surreal to hear a new voice. He had almost forgotten that there was more to the world than this. "Two years, seven months and thirteen days."_

_"You're keeping track better than most."_

_Well he had been counting them...who knows why. "I'm trying to keep my sanity."_

_The other man laughed wheezily at the remark. "Good luck with that," he said grimly._

_Fiyero felt a pang of fear but kept talking to stifle it. "What about you? How long?"_

_"Eighteen years."_

_Fiyero couldn't fathom it. He had been here such a short time in comparison and was already struggling. "All this time I've been here your cell has been empty. Why have they moved you now," Fiyero said mostly to himself._

_The other man sighed before saying, "To break you."_

_"That'll never happen," Fiyero retorted, and winced at the harshness in his voice._

_"That's what we all say. You'll squeal like a Pig before they're done with you. You might take longer than some but its going to happen."_

_The man's voice was calm, non-judgemental, that alone was enough to half-convince Fiyero. He pushed on again. "But how will you being in there help them? I don't understand."_

_"You will," the other said cryptically. "I'll only be in this place for a few more days. A week at most."_

_Now Fiyero was definitely interested. "What do you mean?"_

_"I'm on my way out of our lovely little home."_

_"Then there is hope for release," Fiyero said excitedly. Maybe there was hope, after all. He leaned closer hoping for a better view but no luck._

_"In a manner of speaking, you could say," the other said finally._

_"What is your name?"_

_"I used to be Drel now I'm just damned."_

_"My name is Fiyero."_

_"Ah...so Fiyero, what did you do to get invited into our home?"_

_"I'm an innocent man." Again the bitterness crept in unbidden. This place **was** changing him and he didn't like it at all._

_"You and every other miserable bastard in the place."_

_"I'm being serious!"_

_"So am I," Drel replied mildly. "I was Personal Advisor to Pastorius for many a year."_

_"I was the Prince of the Arjiki tribe."_

_"Ah so you are guilty..."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"A prince? In the time of Our Glorious Wizard? Now thats treason. How dare you not bow to his supreme authority."_

_Neither one said anymore but Fiyero stared through the opening for a long time. It had been the first conversation he had with another person since he ended up here. It may have not been the most pleasant but he was almost beside himself with joy. And he had hardly realized how difficult it had been for him so far. Until this moment. Another voice. Another person. He tried to think of something else to say, to keep the conversation going, but nothing was coming to mind._

_"Drel," he called desperately an hour or so later._

_"Yeah," the other prisoner asked._

_Fiyero was suddenly mortified; this was pathetic._

_"What the hell do you want," Drel barked at him sounding irritated._

_"Can you just-I was wondering if we could-nevermind," he said pulling away from the grill._

_"Damn it, you woke me up for that?"_

_"Sorry. I just wanted to talk more. I didn't mean to...," his voice trailed off as he realized Drel was now looking through from the other side of the wall._

_"How old are you," Drel asked in a curious tone._

_"Twenty-five, twenty-six. I can't remember."_

_"Ah hell, you're just a damn kid. And I'm an old man. Between the two of us we make a couple of dangerous criminals. Yeah; we need to be locked up."_

_"But you're getting out soon," Fiyero reminded him. Drel fell silent then and would say no more. Fiyero eventually gave up._

He opened his eyes to the present and stared up at the blank night sky. The dream had ended uneventfully, any further recollection was nonexistant but the panic that gripped him was more intense than any he remembered.

Gradually he realized that Ariadne was standing closeby, watching him. She looked frightened. "Sorry," he told her. It was a nightmare. She looked on the verge of saying something but only turned away.

He sighed and looked away, at Amaris. He put his hand on top of her head and smiled when she fidgeted in her sleep.

Ariadne moved away, casting a wary glance at the Griffen which was watching her every move, and sat on her bedding. _Someone is angry with me: that she had fallen in with this madman_. She wondered if she should fear for her life. _Probably not_. _He doesn't seem particularly violent or dangerous but how could I know?_ He doted on his little girl, showing promise of how he would treat her children, if she chose to stay with him long enough. She lay awake long into the night thinking on it.


	60. Chapter 60

_It was agonizing. His wrists were locked into shackles bolted into the wall eight or so feet from the ground. If he tried he could just touch the floor with his toes and the balls of his feet. But that was alot of weight for them. He could only manage for ten minutes at a time and then it would be to shift the weight to his arms. He could stand that for longer intervals but eventually the strain would be too much and he would have to shift the weight again. _

_"Pain is only a state of mind. Convince yourself that it does not exist and it will not."_

_"What!"_

_Drel burst into laughter on his side of the wall. _

_In desperation, Fiyero slid his feet up the wall and tried to support himself like that. Within minutes his calves were screaming their protest and he had to give up. _

_"Its not something you can win, boy. Best give it up now." _

_Fiyero sneered at the advice. "I'm stronger than them."_

_"Ha! The rate you're going you might last a few more years but by then you'll be kissing their feet."_

_Fiyero sighed, irritated with Drel's lack of faith. They could try all they wanted. He was stronger than that. Sure, it hurt like hell but he had to hold out. His strength began to fail. He took a deep breath and tried to brace himself with his legs again. _

_Sleep. His legs slid down the sides of the wall and his arms slowly stretched their full length. His shoulders slumped forward and so did his head. His own weight turned against him as his air was suddenly cut off. It woke him suddenly and with an effort he was able to pull himself back up, amidst much coughing and choking. He could hear Drel laughing again._

_"Smell that burning? Someone's being executed," Drel remarked when Fiyero had a few minutes to recover. The man actually sounded amused. _

_Will that be me in another sixteen years? Still desperate times... "How do you know? They could be setting fires for any reason."_

_"There is only one thing that smells like burning human hair."_

_"And what is that?"_

_"Burning human hair, you dolt!"_

_"Oh right." Fiyero mentally withdrew from the grill once more. Ancient, cantakerous and half-mad Drel was proving to be, but any conversation was better than none. _

_The old man added, "Lucky bastard."_

_Fiyero tried to breathe through his mouth. _

_After awhile Drel started talking again. "So...you, Prince of the Arjikis, how royal do you feel now? Naked and moldering in your own filth. How proud you must be."_

_But it was true, Fiyero had gotten used to being naked, by necessity, but what he wouldn't give for some soap and water. It made him remember how thirsty he was. Water. Damn. He sighed despairingly and prayed for a distraction._

This time he woke to bright daylight. He sat up, trying to take stock of his surroundings. What did the dream mean? What did it mean! Fiyero wanted to know but was also afraid of knowing. It enduced real terror. But there was more, had to be. He poured some water from his flagon into his hand and wiped it over the back of his neck and his face.

* * *

A free moment, snatched out of the daily rush of things. Elphaba returned to her chambers and locked herself in. She lay on her bed trying to relax. The magic picture that she hoarded lay beside her. She too drifted into a memory:

_The air was still saturated with moisture from his bath. The water drained out beneath the floor boards. "I wonder if you remember the day that we all went down to the Corner Loft in Shiz and spent the entire day. Those were wonderful times weren't they," she asked him, lifting his arm and ducking her head and shoulders beneath it. _

_Now began the painstaking task of getting him out of there. She hoped that he wouldn't resist like he had done before. She braced herself against the side of the basin, putting most of the weight on it. She pulled one leg over, its muscles were tense, lending difficulty to the task, but that was to be expected. _

_At least he wasn't fighting her this time; she still had bruises from last time. _

_She paused to catch her breath and lifted the other leg over the edge. Her other arm slid around his back, supporting his upper body as she moved him out. She took another break, sitting beside him on the floor. This was harder than she thought. "Oh Fiyero..." She wondered what had brought on his inward retreat. _

_A blow to the head? She wouldn't put it past those people, but she had a feeling that would have made it immediate. No probably the fight for survival was over and the body could afford to shut down. _

_Or the emotional shock. No doubt he had been living in a constant state of fear all that time. She couldn't imagine. She stood up again and got the clothes she left for him, drying in front of the fire. _

_They were simple, cotton-spun trappings, hardly worthy of him, but they were clean and dry at least. She returned to him and looked into his blank face. She saw nothing there. _

_It was as if the thing that made Fiyero was gone and all that was left was this body that wouldn't die. Waiting for him, perhaps? "Someone loves you," she whispered, hoping at least the concept, if not the words, would get through. "Someone cares. You don't have to be afraid anymore." She went back to work, dressing him and such. Maybe if he recovered from this he would remember that she tried to restore some dignity to him. She could hope at least. _

_Vegetable pottage was simmering away over the fire. She brought him a small bowl. "You're hungry, I can tell. They starved you in that place, but my love, thats over now." She fed him, glad that there was at least a rudimentry survival instinct._

Her words had made a difference. Fiyero told her time and again. _The awareness of her patience_, he told her. It didn't make the most tedious and less appetizing tasks bearable, she couldn't admit to that, but they didn't last forever. He couldn't help it at the time. She sat up, surprised that she had fallen asleep, or had it been a daydream? She wondered, if now, he would continue to recover?

The nightmares and intrusive memories had continued to plague him the last time she saw him. An object, a sound or anything reminscent of that time could and would easily send him pitching back to it. She began to accept it as reality, but still holding to hope that even they may subside. Fiyero, on the other hand had fallen into denial. _Extreme denial_.

There was nothing wrong. Nightmares? Everybody has bad dreams. And the flashbacks? Elphaba was overreacting. They weren't happening anymore. He seemed to believe it too, scouring each incident from his memory. She understood why at least; most people wanted to feel in control of their lives. It probably frightened him more than anything that he couldn't be and hence the selective amnesia.

She thought of his ill-concieved search for forgiveness and could predict that Sarima was lost to him. Either long dead or unwilling to bend to his ridiculous demands. Putting herself into the other woman's shoes, she wouldn't have dismissed his infidelity and abandonment just because he asked her to.

And then there was the way he spoke of his imprisonment. Like Confession it was, sometimes he was almost pleading with her: _Please forgive me for not being invincible and immune to the constant torment they inflicted. Forgive me for being human and therefore vulnerable. _She sighed. It wasn't up to her. He had to figure it out on his own and had said as much even if he didn't realize it.

But she wanted to see him, more than anything. She closed her eyes again. If only she could just hear his voice...

"We should stop and rest. This is not easy for a small child. And besides Nsylt is getting agitated about something."

That was his voice! Her eyes flew open and she looked wildly around. Another voice, female this time but muffled.

_What in Oz_! It took her a few minutes more to realize the sounds were coming from her magic picture. She picked it up to look.

* * *

Fiyero drew lines in the sand, forming letters and numbers as Amaris watched. He took her hand and put it over each one, sounding out its name and sound. She pulled free and rubbed out the drawings. He redrew them but left Amaris alone this time. He looked around for Ariadne.

She said she had never been around men. Was that even believable? Certainly she behaved completely ignorant of them and the ways they could hurt her. Like the way she was bathing herself in the stream in clear view, right now. It was hard not to look. Impossible, but he tried to pretend it wasn't happening. He tried to look everywhere but.

Nsylt flipped her tail back and forth through the grass. Amaris ran around, chasing it and laughing. Fiyero tried to focus on them instead.

Awhile later, Ariadne came over wearing a oversized tunic that went to her knees. A macrame belt was tied around her waist making it look like a dress. He gave her a wary look. She was so naive, so innocent; there was a sort of seduction in that.

_I wonder what it would be like to-what the hell is wrong with me, having these thoughts? Either its an act and she is trying to seduce me or she really is that way and I can't be responsible for defiling-damn she looks vulnerable when she does that. Stop it!_ Fiyero swore under his breath and looked towards the stream. _Maybe a cold bath will be good for me._

* * *

An unexpected rainstorm had come up, a particularly exuberant crash of thunder drew her attention. She put the picture down and walked to the window to watch the deluge, unsure how to react to this development.

He was travelling with another woman. It didn't mean anything. It might not. Certainly he didn't seem interested in her.

_He had better not_. Elphaba would gladly remove the inclination for him if the need arose.

Then she decided it wouldn't matter. It was understandable. She had no right to tie him down. They had made no vow to each other. He had no obligation to her, either. Certainly she was allowed her freedom. And what did he know of such matters? Been with only two women and him thirty-something? The prospect of a third option must be thrilling...

_No. No! He had better not_. Lightning flashed brilliantly, striking the old oak beyond her window. She stepped away from the window, out of reflex.


	61. Chapter 61

Another short rainburst. There seemed to be another one every ten minutes. The sodden grass grew to the waist and hampered the progress. Fiyero found himself missing Oz, and particularly the Vinkus, more by the day.

A group of strange creatures watched the travelers pass from beneath a flattopped tree. They had dusty red-gray coats and ridiculously oversized feet. He asked Ariadne what they were, but she didn't know either.

More rain. It came down so fast that it stung their skin. Amaris whined and hid behind one of the Griffen's wings. Ariadne stopped walking and turned to face the rest of them. She was soaked by now and the water dripped from her hair and her dress. Her white dress...

His face hardened. This _was_ some con. An obvious attempt at seduction. And she was so damn naive, she had no real concept of what could come of it. He averted his eyes and walked past her without a word.

As the day wore on, Fiyero's mood elevated. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to allow himself to be seduced. Ariadne was easy on the eyes, after all. And more importantly, she didn't flinch at the sight of him. He knew he was looking a bit worse for wear these days, to say the least. Especially, given that his hair was already silvering around the edges.

"I'm only thirty-three," he said aloud. "That's not even middle age."

Ariadne looked up, she had been combing out and braiding her hair. Now she paused, unsure if he was speaking to her. Ariadne was a full head shorter than Elphaba, but then Elphie was tall for a woman. She was a little curvier than Elphaba too but not in extremis. He realized, in not watching her, that some itinerant would take advantage of her artless nature. He sighed, irritated that he might just be that person. He let out another deep breath and thought about that cold bath again.

His thoughts and eyes just wouldn't stop wandering...the Arjiki people were generally polygamists; it would be alright from that standard at least.

_But Elphaba would kill him_! If she found out. She would have no way of knowing. He felt disgusted for thinking such a thing. Elphaba may not know but he would know. It struck him suddenly that he had no such qualms when carrying on the affair. He cared for Sarima. She gave him three children, after all. But had he ever really been attracted to her?

Maybe he wasn't even in love with Elphaba. Maybe he was just confusing gratitude? Or maybe was she just the convenient choice? Certainly, this wasn't the first time he questioned his affections.

Later on, he sat watching Ariadne move through the tall grass, clutching a small spear. She moved purposefully, impaling some small creature, that let out a deceptively loud shriek. She lifted the tip revealing a large water rat in its death throes. His breath caught, looking at it, and he felt sweat break out on his brow. He turned away before she could see his reaction.

_They had turned him loose the day before. Still his arms were stiff and aching from being chained up for so long. Drel had been quiet for several hours now. Fiyero looked through the grill again, worried about why. He saw the old man laying on his side in a dim patch of what passed for light in this place. "Drel," he called. But down the corridor sounds broke out. The heavy footfall of boots. Fiyero moved away from the grill and to the far end. It was hard enough as it was, he wasn't about to give them an excuse. He cursed himself for being such a coward._

_The man moved up and down the ranks, looking bored with his tedious work. He may as well been slopping hogs for the way he regarded the prisoners. Fiyero watched him and wondered how many people were locked in this nightmare with him. The guy slung something in his bowl, without bothering to look at him, and continued on. _

_"We're not human. Not Animal or even stupid beasts," Drel finally croaked from next door. "We have no rights." _

_"You can give over with that anytime," Fiyero snapped at him. _

_"Hey, I'm doing you a favor!"_

_Fiyero laughed bitterly. "That's what they keep telling me while they pull out my fingernails or something. It's for my good." _

_"But I'm telling you the truth. Especially since they take special interest in you. This is your life now. Your reality. You're going to die down here and the sooner you accept it the better off you'll be."_

_Fiyero sighed and tried to focus on his dinner. A thin watery pasty something. He sighed again looking at it. At least it didn't smell like anything, or maybe the stench of the underground masked it? Still it was him or the rats. _

_"They keep breaking your hands, don't they," Drel asked. He went on without waiting for a reply, "Take a man's hands, take his life. His worthiness. I bet you were a handsome man too, and they just cut up that face of yours for you, didn't they? And those things they strung you up in, all the wonderful food they give us: have quite the effect on a man's physique. Wouldn't you agree? Oh but no, I forgot. **You are different**." _

_Fiyero cringed at Drel's mocking tone. He shot back, "Now I see what you mean by them using you to get to me. Your trying to make me lose my nerve. I haven't done anything and I'm not giving them any names. So you can just forget it and shut up." He winced, hearing himself. He was feeling petty and mean. He shook his head irritated with himself. Some much for not letting them win. _

_While Fiyero was thinking on this the old man had mercifully lapsed into silence. Now feeling ashamed, Fiyero moved back to the grill and looked through again._

It suddenly cut off again. Fiyero sat still for several minutes trying to shake the fear. For some reason the sight of the rat had set it off. He knew now, he didn't want to remember the rest.

He glanced at Ariadne, but mercifully she didn't seem to notice what had happened to him. She sat on the edge of a rock, pulling her feet up to keep them free of the mud. Her small frame was turned dark against the setting sun, the edges of her silhoutte almost glowing with its light. He couldn't look away, what with the way the wind was whipping through that beautiful raven-dark hair.

He was drawn inexorably to her. No stopping it now, and why bother? He found himself right next to her, without even realizing he had moved. He bent down to kiss her and she responded accordingly. He relaxed completely losing himself into it. She was different than Elphaba, or Sarima for that matter. It was different...he almost liked it, but not quite.

And then suddenly his conscience caught up again. _What am I doing? Am I this damn weak that any sort of temptation bests me? And what about Elphaba? I can't just dismiss what she's done for me. This is wrong! _

He took Ariadne by the shoulders and pushed her away, while disengaging himself, instantly regretting that he had initiated this. He mollified his guilt a little by reminding himself it was only a kiss.

She couldn't believe it, rejected by_ him_. She was so stunned for a moment that she couldn't react. Her face turned into an ugly scowl and she fell into a angry torrent in her native language. She caught herself and began anew in basic Ozian. "You are insane," she screamed at him, slaming both palms against his midsection. "Do you think that is normal to lose your mind every single time the sun goes down? I mean, really! I am afraid for my life, all of the time! _What is wrong with you_? And I am the HighPriestess Daughter! Who are you to reject me? She pushed him again and then caught up in the growing anger and humiliation she produced a small knife.

He hesitated briefly, more from curiousity than fear. She was so small; did she really think she could overpower him? He grabbed her wrist as she made to lunge, and twisted it. Perhaps too hard;she cried out in pain and the knife fell, clanging on the rocks. She made an angry noise and snatched her hand free. Momentum sent her staggering back and she slipped falling into the dirt. He turned away from her, kicking the knife further from her reach with one of his feet.

Amaris wasn't oblivious to the minor tumult; she stood on wobbly legs, sobbing and rubbing her eyes with both fists. Fiyero swept her up and she hiccuped, burying her face into his collar. She keened softly as he moved closer to where Nsylt was waiting. He set her on the ground and pulled some twine from one of his bags. He wound it between the fingers of both hands and held them out, showing the nest he created. Her eyes still glistened with tears but she was interested.

He glanced over his shoulder. Ariadne was nowhere to be seen. Another quick look told him her knife was still where it fell. She still needed protection, that was painfully obvious.

Traces of smoke drifted on the wind, embellishing his point. There were other people nearby.

Ariadne may rush blindly into the town and be eaten alive. True any attraction he may have had for her withered beneath that little outburst but he was still responsible for her. There must be a safe haven for women; a convent or something. He would drop her off and say good riddance. Sarima and absolution were out the in the distance, waiting for him, as was Elphaba and serenity back in Colwen Grounds. He wondered briefly why he felt worse regarding Elphaba than to Sarima.

And then he felt guilty for not feeling guilty. He should be feeling more for Sarima, right?

A moment later Ariadne came running towards him all of a sudden. He was surprised to see her. He thought she would be long gone.

"You must help me," she gasped, clutching his arm.

He pulled his arm free and stared at her in disbelief. "Now you need my help and suddenly I'm fine to be around. I'm a dangerous madman remember?"

Her face fell open with shock and she shot a fearful look over her shoulder. "Please," she cried.

He paused, looking down at her as if in doubt. She grew more frantic. "Alright," he said slowly, dubiously. He went two or three steps, leading her, when someone struck him over the head.

* * *

"I have saved your life," someone said as Fiyero slowly came to.

"What?" He sat up cautiously, clutching his head like it would come apart otherwise. His eyes focused on a group of men and women.

An elderly man addressed him. "You are very fortunate."

"I am? Thats news to me. I have a killer hangover."

"Not a hangover," the old man grinned toothlessly at him, "Phaedyr hit you." And he picked up a rock to demonstrate.

"Thank you for saving me then," Fiyero said glaring at him. Phaedyr grinned more widely. And then he remembered himself. Where is my daughter, he asked looking around the circle. A woman, even more ancient than this Phaedyr brought Amaris to him. He took her gladly. He didn't bother looking for Ariadne. She was probably off mingling with the locals.

But then Phaedyr told him. "Fear not, the devil girl is dead."

"What! You killed her! For what reason? She may not have been a sweet maiden but to kill her?"

"She serves the demon queen of the sands. She would have laid with you and then gut you."

"She was a helpless woman! A girl practically."

"But that was merely her ruse. She _was_ a dainty little thing. You, with your ugly mug, fell for her charms, but did you really believe?"

"I didn't fall for anything. I pushed her away. _But it doesn't matter._ How could you people just kill her?"

"She was a devil."

"She was defenseless. It was murder."

Phaedyr shook his head and pity shone in his eyes. "You do not understand these things."

"You're right, I don't," Fiyero shot back.

"Come, we have replenished your supplies. You must move on at once, lest you and the little one meet the same fate."

Fiyero stood up reeling from all of this. Ariadne had really been murdered, and without warning. _Is this how Elphaba felt that day?_ He hardly cared that he was being shuttled out. In fact, the sooner this place was behind him the better he would feel. They were all barbarians, the people of Fliaan. And he had thought Oz was bad. But then Oz sported boys like Jemmsy. This bunch was at least somewhat courteous.

Phaedyr met him at the torch line with an extra sack. "That beast of yours has been circling all night. Loyal, isn't it? Too bad it didn't kill the bitch and save us the trouble."

Fiyero made no comment. He carried his things, walking slow for Amaris' sake. Safe beyond the boundries he greeted Nsylt, sliding his arms as far around her neck as he could manage. He tied his belongings to her back and began searching for a safer place to hunker down for the rest of the night.


	62. Chapter 62

This was insanity. Now that Fiyero was further from the border the number of people he could communicate with was waning. The last he heard of her Sarima was in some place called Breyn. And that was six or seven months ago. This following another fatal hesitation. More blood on his hands. Lucky for him Amaris didn't know any better. Time slipped by and they passed deeper into Fliaan.

Salt flats? The air was mild but dry.

Nyslt lingered closeby, as usual. He glared at her. "You're a Griffen. Fly Griffen and carry us to where we need to go." She tossed him an irritated look. "Oh, don't give me that. I'm tired of walking. I've been walking my whole life it seems."

He sat down on the dead ground and tried yet again to make sense of things. Ariadne was dead, perhaps deservingly so, having supposedly only using him for conception, intent on seducing him for that very reason. The very concept sounded ludricrous in the extreme. But was he just sore from the deception. The idea of being treated like a stock beast. But hadn't he been guilty of the very same at one time?

Karma was a bitch.

He ignored the Griffen and looked out at the ground was bleached bone white and cracked every few feet, almost like a natural tile. He guessed it may be the remnant of some ancient lake, long gone dry except that it went on as far as he could see. There was no sign of life and he'd prefer it that way as long as the food held out.

* * *

It took nearly two weeks to travel through and he found himself approaching a small hamlet. He had enough, he hoped, gold to replenish his stores. At least he seemed to be on the right path.

Lavild, that was the name of the town. It sounded familiar but he checked his map to be sure.

Satisfied he refolded and pocketed it. It was easier, he found to sleep by day and travel by night, at least where other people were concerned. Ariadne's tantrum had opened his eyes. He should avoid others much as possible; it was better for all concerned that way. But he needed to sleep, on a real bed if he could manage. _Amaris should know what thats like anyway._ A bed and a hot meal, maybe even a bath.

The water felt great. He could have spent hours just letting it roll over him. But he was falling asleep on his feet. He slipped into a clean pair of trousers before laying down.

It was late afternoon when he woke up. Amaris was still out, sleeping on her stomach. One little fist was curled near her mouth. He stroked it with one finger. "I know I'm asking alot of you. Just bear with me for a few more days and then we'll head for home."

"Okay Daddy," she mumbled sleepily. He kissed the top of her head and left her alone, locking the door as he went. He went downstairs to the common area, which reeked of smoke and liquor. He ordered a plate and took it back to the room. He was surprised to find her sitting up on the bed.

"Hey beautiful, I brought dinner. After we eat we have to head out again." She made a face at the idea, but he went on, speaking mostly to himself, "Sarima is near. Only a few days travel left."

* * *

But Sarima would have nothing to say. He had come here too late by a matter of hours. Her nurse didn't linger, didn't give explanation on the hows and whys. Fiyero let her go without a word.

His hand hovered over her cold brow. "I know you tried your best and it was only fear that drove you. I was a terrible husband." He touched her face, the skin there already hardened by death. "I don't know what to say to you. I wanted to make things right. I'm sorry. I take the blame. I was too young and stupid. It wasn't your fault, you were more trapped than I." He kissed her forehead and pulled the veil over her face. He didn't move for several minutes. Finally, he stood to go.

There was a slight noise, a flicker of movement. He paused, glancing in the corner. A boy, younger even than Amaris. He looked up at Fiyero, his small face streaked with dirt and tears. Fiyero stole a glance back at Sarima's unmoving form. "Was she your mother?"

The boy wiped his face and nodded. He said something in the language of these strange folk. Fiyero watched him unsure what to do now. So he decided to do nothing. He left the tent. The boy followed looking scared and confused. Fiyero frowned at him. The boy stopped and looked back. He wasn't imploring, almost too overwhelmed right now. "I don't know what to do with you," he tried to explain. Not that the boy could understand him.

Nsylt was ripping apart a small animal as he approached. She snapped her beak once at him. He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to take it from you. It looks disgusting." The Griffen shut her eyes mirthfully and went back to crunching bones. He scratched the fur between her shoulders and back, up her neck. He leaned forward close to her ear. I want to get back to Oz quick. Please, just this once? She dipped her head down a little, probably a reflex to her eating but he decided to take it as assent.

He stuck Amaris right between the wings and began tying her in place. She, of course, fought and screamed the entire time. He gave the boy another quick glance. He sighed and shook his head. There would be enough for the return trip, if he was careful, but did he really need another charge to look over? Despite himself, he asked Amaris. "Do you want a playmate for awhile?"

He tied the boy in alongside her, and made sure both children were secure. He pulled himself up behind them and looped the ropes around his own waist. He was glad the air was dry here, it awarded him at least moderate use of his hands, though they were already aching. Nsylt meandered along for a time, making grumbling noises, staying grounded.

Fiyero felt oddly relieved by Sarima's death. Sure, she had been his wife and he was obligated to protect her and had failed to do so, but in being too late he found himself unburdened. He should feel more. He was supposed to. Of course he felt something. He was _glad_ she was gone. "Oz! What the hell is wrong with me?" He leaned forward, to protect the children, and himself from the cold as Nsylt gained height. He thought of that fateful first holiday from Shiz. The blinders had really come off then.

_Things were different now. And not just because of Sarima's first pregnancy. Fiyero was different now and he knew it. He had gone to Shiz with at least a rudimentry education; reading and writing and all the other basics. But now his head was swimming with knowledge. And this after only four months. He had more than a year left to go. He tried to grasp the concept. _

_Just then Sarima made a small noise, breaking his thought. He looked over at her, nearly falling out of his seat when he saw her face and the way she held her hand to her stomach. She gave a nervous chuckle and smiled apologetically. He's a kicker, she explained. When Fiyero remained on his feet, she said more snidely, "Oh, don't worry, you're precious heir will be fine. He'll be a right terror with the way he keeps trying to bust out of my belly. Fiyero sat back down. _

_Baxiana put her hand on his arm. "Relax," she hissed from the corner of her mouth. He tried to obey. The viceroy from Ovvels was ushered into the foyer. _

_Did Ovvels really need a viceroy? And what did it have to do with the Vinkus? _

_Fiyero watched and listened as the man droned on and on in a slow, stuffy voice about trades and such. Sarima picked at her gown; Fiyero tried not to yawn. Baxiana kept casting dark looks at the two of them. Finally, the man finished and produced a stack of papers from seeming thin air and in need of Fiyero's signature. _

_"But you're not even a Quadling," Fiyero said bluntly. Baxiana sighed and rubbed her brow. _

_"I most certainly am not," the viceroy said, puffing himself up. Fiyero was surprised to see that the man actually seemed to inflate a little. He picked up his phenix quill pen and thought on it. Maybe if I jab him with it he'll explode. Then there will actually be some excitement to this prince thing. So much for slaying the dragon or ogre. Fiyero picked up the first sheet and started looking it over. _

_The viceroy clucked his tongue. "Time is of the essence."_

_"I want to know what I'm signing," Fiyero said mildly. Baxiana sidled in to placate them all. _

_"An astute decision," she said smoothly. "Sarima would you be a dear and escort the gentleman to the buttery while my son has the oppurtunity to make up his mind. There is no reason why our guest shouldn't be comfortable." The second they were alone, Baxiana turned on her son. "Whats the matter with you, behaving like that!" _

_He shrugged and told her, "I thought this would be more exciting. I thought being a prince would mean something." _

_"It does mean something. It means you are responsible for more than yourself. Now man up and do what your people require." _

_"What my people require," Fiyero mumbled. "They require a great many things and care little for my opinion." _

_She turned sharply and appraised her son. "What is this now?" _

_"Well she can't even read," he said dismally. _

_"And neither could your father. I had no more choice than you have." She eyed him shrewdly. "I had thought a formal education would have done you some good. Certainly, its increased morale among the villages. But what's got into you?" Fiyero didn't answer. She clucked her teeth again. "You speak of your opinion so tell me. Some little coquettish upstart batt her eyes and fill your head with fantastic ideas? This is life, boy, your life. Now, if youre quite done with your wailing, But its not fair!, those papers need signing. Not a damn thing in the Universe is fair and I should know!"_

_"Perhaps if I proposed divorce and remarried in a few years," he tried desperately. Elphaba could hardly be considered coquettish, but there was truth to it. He was feeling bolder._

_"Of course you can divorce her."_

_"I can," Fiyero said, shocked that she would be so agreeable. _

_"Yes, I'm sure that Two would be more than happy to step into her older sister's role." _

_Two... Fiyero sighed. There was always a catch. _

_"Why do you think they were moved into the castle along with her? If Sarima died without issue, or otherwise proved unsuitable there would be plenty to fall back on." _

_Fiyero frowned at her explanation. "You make it sound as they are chattel." _

_She shrugged. "Well, all their lives they were groomed for one purpose." _

_"But I have done my part. When Irji is born they will have their heir and I almost wish..." _

_Her gaze turned icy all at once. "What," she said, folding her arms. _

_"I wish that I could walk away and leave it. Perhaps I shall. This means nothing to me."_

_She quickly closed the gap between them and slapped him hard across the face. "Don't even suggest it," she hissed. "No son of mine is a coward. Do you realize someone could have heard you? You have a job to do. Get back to work and get your head out of the clouds."_

He sighed, trying not to think anymore about it. Sarima hadn't been the easiest person to live with but neither had he. Relieved, tired, and a host of other emotions that he could hardly name. He relaxed against Nsylt, wondering what next and just how was he going to explain this to Nor?


	63. Chapter 63

The stranger arrived close to midnight, at the MereHaven Inn of Dragon Cupboard. He showed up, hooded and caped with a veil to conceal his face, but then most of the patrons in the pub were. But he was quieter than most, and that is what drew her attention. She hovered nearby his table more than any other. He had a presence somehow. She shook her head in incredulity. She was too old for that kind of thing.

"I am seeking council with the Governer of Munchkinland," he said conversationally, in a tone suggesting he was smiling.

She smiled back. "The Witch of the East? Whatever for?"

"I only know her as Nessarose. And I can hardly picture her as a witch."

"You're the only one around here," she remarked. "What do you hear of her sister?"

"That I can't tell you. Not much to hear."

He shrugged and sighed. "I suppose not. Anything of the brother?"

"Oh, the other one, that Shell: well, one can only hope the stories are true."

"What do you mean?"

"Well,_ he _certainly is no Witch," the barmaid continued on.

"Oh?"

She laughed heartily. "Blowing up the ladies skirts from the Glikkus to the Sour Sands. Some say he's a spy for the Witch but I think he just likes to get around. I heard his mother was the same."

"And the father?"

"Mad as a Hatter," she said. Then she blushed and suddenly remembered she had a job to do. "Oh sir, I'm sorry. I've prattled on and didn't even take your order."

Again he seemed to smile. "Gossip can be illuminating. I have a personal interest in the Thropp family. I hear good things about Glikkus wine. I'll take a bottle up to my room."

Fiyero retired to his room shortly after. He had spent sometime, before leaving Fliaan, living on the property of a sorceress and had picked up a measure of that trade. For instance, the spell that allowed him to communicate more freely. The woman had been more than happy to accept the Griffen as payment, for protection and as a potential familiar, not suprisingly. What _did_ surprise him was that Nsylt was just as willing to oblige.

He let the spell drop as he locked himself in. Amaris and Sarima's son were both asleep on the room's only bed. He spread out his usual bedding and settled down on the floor beside, reflecting on what he heard. Nessa was calling herself a witch, or being called one; how unlikely was that? Unrelentingly superior, and overly righteous yes, but a witch? He closed his eyes and relaxed a little.

"Puppy," Amaris said, leaning over the side of the bed.

Fiyero looked back at her, half-surprised that he had fallen asleep, and smiled. "I'm still not getting you a puppy." She sat up giggling. The sound of her laughter lifted his spirits further.

* * *

Nor paused at the middle of the beflowered archway and stood staring at him. "I got your message the other day, saying you were coming."

"You look beautiful as always," he told her.

She glared at him. "You don't get to say those things to me. You left, remember?"

"I remember."

She felt torn, her outrage and grief at his rejection at odds with regret at his pitiable condition. But none of this was visible. She maintained an air of cool indifference. "Did you find Mama?"

"I found her. I'm sorry Nor but it was too late."

She struggled to maintain her composure. "Why did you want to see me?"

He was clearly taken aback at her question. "I'm your father. Of course I want to see you."

"It was never your priority before." Was she wrong for wanting to hurt him as much as possible? Irji was dead. Mama was dead. And Manek was gone, probably forever. If he had just been there!

"Please Nor, if you just would let me, I'll spend every day making it up to you. Please give me a second chance."

"Tell me why I should bother?"

"You have no reason to."

She shook her head, ready to dismiss him. "You need this. I don't. I couldn't care less."

"What do want from me, Nor? Just ask and I will do it."

"You can leave me alone."

He searched her face for a moment before saying very quietly, "Alright." He gave her a slight bow and turned away.

She stood there for awhile, her eyes fixed on the spot that he had been standing. Maybe she should go after him and let him off the hook. No, she would do that, but first she would let him suffer a little.

Cerulean came up behind her and distracted her for a moment. Of course, she was glad to see him, always was. He was a Quadling, a little out of place here, but then so was she. He was the property manager's oldest son and Nor thought she was in love.

"Who was that?"

Nor sighed, of course he would wonder. But could she tell him just yet? She decided no. She turned to look at him. "Can we meet later? There's something I have to do."

He looked a little annoyed but let her go. She hurried off in the direction that her father had gone. She caught up with him a few minutes later, a little out of breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm being cruel."

He looked at her for a few seconds without saying anything. "It's alright. It's normal for you to be angry with me. I don't claim to have been a good father to you and your brothers."

"No," she agreed. "I am angry. You can't fix it, you can't make it right. But I will at least try."

He nodded, looking somber. "Thank you."

She still felt like being mean, so she added, "Since we're both going to be living here, what choice do I have?" He sighed but said nothing. It was on her terms after all, and she wanted the fact of to be clear.


	64. Chapter 64

_He was here! _He was in the library they told her. She didn't rush to see him. Well...only a little.

She forced herself to stop just before the door, and smoothed out her clothing, tried to make it look like she wasn't quite so happy that he should be here. "There you are," she said, coming into the room, trying to look nonchalant.

He looked up and smiled at her, tilting his head a little. "Good morning."

"Reading something mind-numbingly boring as usual?" She peered at the cover. "Ah, Methods and Management of Ontological Policies. You know, I went to Shiz too, but I have no idea what that means."

"Oh, Ontology is a fancy way of saying 'Why are we here?'"

"Well, you never disappoint," she teased.

"They have an impressive collection. I like it here."

She returned his smile. "I'm glad. All things come together. My sister may be irritating but she's done well here by seperating from Loyal Oz. The Gale Force has no power here."

"There's no place safer," he murmurred.

She leaned forward to kiss him. "I love you." They kissed again. "I'm so glad you're here, finally."

"I'm staying put. Nothing I have to do. I could get used to this peace of mind thing." She went to kiss him a third time but he pulled back, frowning with concern.

"What's wrong?"

"I've seen myself. I can hardly be considered attractive anymore." The wiry frame, failing youth and, of course, those damn scars.

"I'm insulted. You think me so shallow? Who was it that would scoff at the pretty outsides of things? Does that not apply to Fiyero? And do you really think so little of me?" She ran her hand down from his neck to abdomen, letting her fingers trail along.

His breath caught and he went rigid. She backed up a step to look at him. His eyes took on that distant, terrified look that she knew well by now. He wasn't really here anymore.

_Small hooks slid just beneath the skin, here and there all over his body. They were each attached to a thin chain which came together into a knot a foot or so above him. They were stinging, more than painful, like angry fire ants. Under the power of curare he couldn't even move a finger. Jemmsy came around to the side and whispered near his ear, "Just in case you didn't realize, right now you are completly at my mercy. Think about it: I can do anything I want to. I bet if you could move from this table you would snap my neck so fast no one could stop it. Isn't that right?" The boy laughed softly. "I don't know about you but I'm getting excited." He grinned and snatched on the knotted chain, ripping the hooks free. _

Reality snapped back into place at once. He felt like he was caught in a vise. Elphaba's arms were wrapped tight around him. She noticed the almost imperceptible change and backed up slightly. "Fiyero," she began but one of the staff interrupted her.

"Is everything alright? I heard yelling coming from this room."

She never missed a beat, she was already on her feet and crossing the room. "Everything is fine. Thank you for your concern. I apologize for the disturbance." She led him from the room, shutting and locking the double doors.

"The disturbance!"

"Oh please don't start that again." She turned back to face him.

"Fae! It shouldn't be like this!"

"No, I agree. It shouldn't. But it is. You survived and thats all that really matters."

"Oh its that simple, is it?"

"Yes! If you would let it."

"If I would! That one, he's probably told a third of the staff by now. This evening it'll be all over Munchkinland about the crazy man you're trying to house here."

"What do I care what these people think?"

"As if you don't."

"I am proud of my love!"

They glared at each other for several seconds. He had the sudden feeling that the room was closing in around him. He shook his head, feeling more and more uncomfortable and tried to concentrate on his book. Of course, it was impossible. "I don't know what you want me to say."

She slammed the book back into place and threw her hands down in exasperation. "I love you but this just isn't going to work."

"What? Fae!" But she was already leaving the room. He went after her. "Wait! Please wait."

She stopped and gave him a stern look. "Now, I know your knees are giving you pain. You shouldn't be running on them."

"I don't care about that."

"No, and that is half the problem."

"Explain."

"I'll take care of you when you need it but I won't do a damn thing if you don't try to look after yourself."

"Anything. Just don't write me off like this. I'll do better. I'll be better for you."

"You will?"

"Anything. Please I don't want you to go."

"I don't want an _improved_ Fiyero. I want a happy Fiyero. This same argument: its getting old. And I have to take care of my sister."

* * *

Damn him! It had been going so well, why did he have to go and ruin it like that?

Nanny, not surprisingly, took note of the goings on, and came after her to interfere.

"What do you call yourself following me for," Elphaba demanded.

Nanny scowled at her. "What did you expect with all the noise you two were making?"

"That was hardly an invitation. But when have you ever waited for one?"

"Exactly," Nanny agreed. "And if I heard your sister heard."

Elphaba flinched. "What, pray tell, am I to do? I have no control over him."

"And why should you? He is his own man."

"Of course he is," Elphaba scoffed. She turned away from the older woman. She didn't want to deal with the prying but she knew that Nanny would never let it go, so she obliged. "But Nanny he keeps harping on the most _stupid_ of things!"

"Like?"

"What everyone else thinks. Ridiculous crap like that. Really, who cares! I don't. Why should he?"

Nanny made a clucking noise. "Thought you were a clever girl."

Elphaba looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"

"They really worked him over good, didn't they? Still a broken man after all these years."

Elphaba snorted. "He'd be fine if he'd let go of it already."

"Stick to the things you know. Its not so easy to let go of a concept when its been beaten into you."

"Get to the point already!"

"He's terrified for one. He probably doesn't really care about their opinion. But he _does_ care about yours."

"I've told him about mine!"

"Have you really?"

"Yes, I love him and I keep telling him so."

"But he thinks you're dismissing it which only make him more afraid."

"Of what!"

"Losing you, maybe. I saw that boy at Shiz, fine handsome man he was turning out to be. And rich too. All of that gone now; just look at him."

"But I don't care about that!"

"He does! For another, these episodes of his, those mangled up hands and Lurline knows what else. Well, he's the man, isn't he? He's supposed to take care of you. Stop criticizing him and put yourself in that ruined body. Think of the shame that he feels after one of those episodes." Elphaba huffed at her reasoning. Nanny scowled at her. "Come with me then."

* * *

He sat by the edge of a reflecting pool, the same one that Elphaba had sat by many times, waiting for him. He stared at the clear mirrorlike surface for a long time, not noticing Nanny's approach until he saw her reflection beside his. He looked up at her.

"Feeling sorry for yourself are you," she said, jumping right into things. He didn't answer. "Not saying you don't have a right to it," she continued, "But it could be said that you're doing it for the wrong reasons."

"What do you know, "he retorted. He sounded petulant, like a child in a tantrum, and he knew it but he didn't care. She gave him a hard scowl and he wondered if she understood him. She did appear to be trying to work out what he was saying.

"What I do know, is that that woman loves you wholeheartedly and if you've looked at yourself lately, you had better consider yourself lucky."

He gave a short bitter laugh. "Ten years ago I was a good looking man. Fifteen years...well you saw me at Shiz. I used to be something. Only a few years ago." He sighed wearily and looked back at his reflection. "I'm old," he said miserably. "I'm only 34 and I'm old." He tried to straighten out his hands but they wouldn't cooperate. He stared at them angrily.

He heard Nanny moving closer but the hands that took his own were green. He looked into Elphaba's face but she was focused on his hands. "Do they hurt very much," she asked quietly.

"No," he told her. She gave him a look. He sighed and admitted, "Yes." She massaged the knuckles, slowly working them out. "I'm old," Fae, he said in that soft, pleading tone she knew well by now. She kept it up but looked at him. "I lost more than five years in there. I feel it and I know I look it. I'm so sorry, Fae."

"No, I'm sorry. I suppose I've been too hard on you. It can't be easy. At least you're trying to get back to normal."

Nanny snorted at the two of them. "If it's really that bad, than you ought to be focusing on what you do have than what you lost."

Fiyero glanced up at her and watched as she left them. "She might be right," he admitted. "But Fae-"

"Forget it, I'm not mad anymore. Ah, we're a pair aren't we? I suppose to get through this, we both need to be patient. Come on, lets get in before Nessa has a conniption."


	65. Chapter 65

He shifted beside her, making soft, desperate noises. She sighed; it meant another sleepless night ahead. She sat up at once, nevertheless, and turned on one of the oil lamps. His eyes rolled wildly in their sockets, reminding Elphaba of Ama Clutch. This was immediatly followed by the fear that Madame Morrible may have bewitched him just the same way. His breath came in rapid gasps. Whatever it was, it was scaring the hell out of him.

She took hold of his hand and that had an emollient effect. He sighed, drawing his legs up and curled himself around her arm.

"What's wrong, love," she whispered leaning close to him.

"I can feel them." He made a face. "They're horrible."

"What's horrible?"

"Leeches. They live on the floor. Somehow they survive. It's wet so I don't know," he mumbled. A few minutes of quiet before, "I can sleep leaning on the wall, if I'm tired enough but they keep crawling on my feet."

She kissed his brow, tightening her fingers around his. "Love, its alright. You're dreaming. Look: there's nothing on your feet."

He lifted his head slightly and glanced at his feet. "Oh," he murmurred and settled back down.

She sighed relieved that it had been so easy this time.

* * *

It was a small assembly, just the three of them, Frex, Nanny and a nobleman with his wife, whose names escaped Elphaba. Nessa's attention was almost entirely on the dignatary. Elphaba was extremely glad for that.

Frex on the other hand... "I have only seen a few Vinkus folk. And never conversed. But, if you don't mind, what is the purpose of those diamond markings?"

"Papa, please. Fi-Lord Tigelaar joined us this morning for tea, not to be interrogated."

"Its a simple question, Elphaba. Let the boy answer."

"They don't mean anything. They are just ceremonial," Fiyero lied, cutting off her caustic remark.

Elphaba was stunned that he sounded so clear. She stared at him curiously. He smiled a little at her bemused expression. It was infectious. She smiled back and put her hand over his. Nessa glanced in their direction and looked down at their touching hands. A cold cruel look passed over her features for the briefest of moments. Then she caught herself and turned her attention back to the couple she was entertaining. But no one noticed the change.

"You've been holding out on me," Elphaba teased, later when the two of them were alone.

"How do you mean?"

"Earlier, at the morning tea."

"Oh, just something I picked up before coming back to Oz. Minor sorcery. It was intended so I could communicate with the locals but I've found useful in other situations."

"Have you?" She took a pfenix feather and ran it between two fingers, across his pectorals, down his abdomen. She bit her lower lip and flicked her eyes up to his.

"Woman, I'm not a racehorse."

She laughed and said, "Oh shut up." She threw the feather away and slid forward running her hands over his torso. She teased his earlobe with her tongue and made her voice low and breathy. "How do you want it?"

Fiyero responded instantly, his whole body stiffening against hers. She laughed softly. "Someone's excited. Oh damn it!" Not sexual tension, another damn flashback. She moved away, sighing several times. "This is our life now," she told him and herself, taking his hand. But really, what a mood killer. She couldn't help but feel a little irritated with him. She waited until it passed, watching his eyes finally clear.

He looked away from her, his breath catching in his throat. "This is-I hate being-it has to stop. I want them to stop."

"They're not going to stop Fiyero. We have to live with them now. Remember what Nanny said."

He shook his head and then put it in his hands. His shoulders began to shake after a minute. "We had no rights. You can't imagine how we had to live. I can barely manage that and I lived through it."

"Alright. No its not alright. Fae, you keep saying that and its not. _I'm_ not alright." She slid her arms around him.

"What am I supposed to do?"

"What we can do is try to enjoy what we have. You have your daughters, and you have me. And also there is this place. You will be safe and you will never want for anything."

"You deserve better than this trainwreck."

"Because I am such a model of clear thinking myself? Let me be the judge of that." She kissed his forehead and made him lie back down. "I know its not much but its something to work with."

He sighed. And went on to changed the subject, somewhat. "Those years in the barracks, they were the only time in my life I was actually settled. All the rest of the time I've been moving here and there."

Well, at least he was trying to move on. She was glad for it and went along with it,"You're tired. Put your feet up and lay your head back," she told him. "Let me take care of you."

He grinned at her. "Be careful with that. I could take advantage."

"You could," she teased, unlacing and pulling off his boots. "Would you like me to rub your feet?"

He gave her a bemused smile. "You don't have to do that."

"I wasn't going to." He laughed at that and pulled one of the oversized pillows to him.

"I have things to do," she said. "You just rest and I'll be back later."

"But he grabbed her wrist. We've been seperated for how long? Those people out there, they can wait for one day."

"Fiyero please, I'll never hear the end of it from Nessarose. Or Nanny for that matter. And my father...," here she made an irritated noise.

He made a face. "You want me to be sad. I know it. You want to go out there and spend time with them and leave me in here all alone."

"You're not being serious?"

"You want me to be sad. You're just so _mean_ to me." He put his face into the pillows like he was pouting.

"Let _go_ of my wrist."

He did but, Fine just go! Don't spend time with me. She rolled her eyes but sat back down anyway.

"It's not cute, you're being irritating."

"You know you love me," Fiyero teased.

"Sometimes I wonder..."

"Ha!"

She feigned annoyance. "You just want to keep me to yourself."

"Of course I do." He took her hand and pulled it around to his mouth. He kissed it softly and then held it to his cheek. "My Fae, my Elphie. Everything that's happened seems almost worth it just to have you next to me."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

He smiled at that and looped an arm around her waist to pull her down beside him.

* * *

If only things always went that well. She woke from a deep sleep by an incredible commotion. She sat up quickly realizing the bed was empty but for her. "Oh hell," she swore loudly, covering herself better with a shawl as she ran into the hallway.

It was easy to find the source. They were all gathered around the door to the secondary foyer. She could hear Fiyero's raised voice even from this far away, but the words were incomprehensible. She forced her way through the small crowd. He had seized one of the onlookers by the arm and kept looking through the door's mailslot.

Elphaba broke in, putting her hand on his arm and trying to deflect his attention to her and away from the servant. It worked, though he still had no clear idea of where he was. "We're people," he pleaded with her desperate. "Drel... Please, we have to help him."

"Okay," she said. "I will. I'll make sure he's okay."

"He's still alive! Can't you see what's happening," he moaned, looking again, seeing something no one else could. She looked at the faces around them. Certainly this would look like madness to them.

Nearly an hour passed before she was able to calm him down enough to get him back to their chambers. She locked the door, to prevent a repeat. It was her fault for being so careless. "You're safe," she told him as he was begining to regain his sense. "Do you remember where you are?"

"The Scrow Camp," he said at once, but then looked dubious.

"No," she said, dismayed but not surprised by his confusion. "This is Colwen Grounds, Fiyero."

He gave her a blank look. "We decided not to go to Colwen Grounds. We headed into the Vinkus...," he took in their surroundings with considerable bewilderment, and looked back at her perplexed.

"That was years ago, my love," she whispered.

He stared at her for a very long time not saying anything. "I wanted everything to be alright."

"Everything is fine."

"How can you just ignore-"

"I'm not ignoring it. Its the way things are. Somethings that are broken cannot be mended. We've had this conversation already."

"Fae, I'm so sorry."

"Oh Fiyero, I love you."

"For someone so cynical, you sure lean on that like its a cure all."

She held back the smile at his defiant tone, he wouldn't have understood. "I'm not leaning on anything. I'm just trying to get through to you." She made an irritated noise and turned so her back was to him. She could feel him watching her.

"Is this-how can you love this?" She turned around again to look at him. "Is this the face you want to see when you wake up in the morning? Is this the body you want to make love to?"

"Yes. And why not? Fiyero, listen to me." She let out a deep breath out, as if preparing herself. "If Jemmsy is just a confused boy, and Morrible capable of remorse, than why is Fiyero such a terrible man? You are _so_ sweet. For all that has gone wrong they never took that away. And I could be wrong, but not once have I known you to want to take your own life." She cut off his protest before it began. "Losing hope after so much pain and misery is a different matter. You never actually tried to end it. That takes amazing strength. I'm not just saying that." She smiled. "You're just as damn stubborn and defiant as I am. And you ask how I can love you? I would bow to you." She slid her hands across the silken sheets and leaned down ducking her head to show him.

"Fae...don't. Look what happened."

"I know. Its not perfect, but it'll be okay. Trust me on this and relax."

He sighed and looked away, looked back. He held up his hands as if in defeat. "Okay, we'll try it your way."

* * *

It was as close to bliss as one could get. True, his hands and knees ached mercilessly but she had a healing touch. Wonderful Elphie who thought of everything...

She dipped his hands in twin bowls of warm oil. They would soak there until it cooled. The warmth would seep in and soon the pain would become tolerable; soon the fingers would move freely.

Then she worked slowly, delibrately, massaging deep into the muscles.

"Feels great," he said, when she had finished. For the moment at least, they looked almost normal. He held them up, turning them back and forth, stretching and curling the fingers a few times.

He closed his eyes again but stayed awake. Elphaba moved in real close and that brought a smile to his face. Just the feel of her beside him, more soothing than enticing. He warmed to the possibilities.

When he opened his eyes again she was gone. He must have fallen asleep. He pushed himself up in bed. A tray laid out for him, bread and cheese, juice of some kind and an apple. He smiled looking at the apple and saved it for Elphie.

After eating he settled down again. He was still tired from the journey and besides there was nothing that needed his attention.

A little selfishness maybe...after so much hardship. He had to admit, he liked her plan. But then came the sudden fear that one day soon he may not be able to climb out of bed. At least today, thanks to Elphaba, the aching joints and stiff muscles were being cooperative.

He found the library again and settled into a velveteen chair. He opened the closest window and started on an historic novel. He smiled thinking of how Elphie would tease him about it later.

It was close to eleven when she was granted a reprieve. She didn't find him in the room, but no matter, he was fairly predictable.

She shut and bolted the window he had opened and put out the candles. He made some sleepy noises and woke up enough to look at her.

"Hi," he whispered yawning.

She came near, kneeling at the chair side. "Hi," she said back.

"How was your day?"

"Uneventful. Peaceful. Quiet."

"Mmm, sounds boring."

"It was but I crossed the Thursk desert with two reluctant children. I could use some boring." He kissed her and ran his hand the length of her silky black hair. "To spend every day with you. Here beyond the threat of Loyal Oz. You have no idea what that means to me." He held the edge of one raven lock in his palm and appeared to be examining it in the moonglow.

"Come on, we'd both be more comfortable in our own bedroom," she said, taking his hand to lead him away.

"Really, what did you have in mind," he said, sounding excited.

She rolled her eyes, in mock exasperation. "Not _that_."

"I never have any fun."

"That's my job: to ruin your fun."

"_I knew it_!"

* * *

"Really? Three of them?"

"Yeah but only nominally."

"Hmm...I never thought of it like that." The conversation broke off when Fiyero picked up a piece of fruit and threw it at her.

"Oh nice," she said giving him a look.

"You know you love me." He looked around the place. They had spent most of the morning outside here on this old blanket; the sunlight felt wonderful on his sore limbs.

And of course the nearness of her...

Amaris was within sight, and earshot, but distantly. She ran around playing with Sarima's son. His name was Sinyh or something like that.

Fiyero watched them for awhile, feeling strangely about the whole thing. "She doesn't need me anymore," he said, without thinking.

Elphaba gave him an odd look. "Fiyero, I wanted to ask you..." She suddenly looked uncomfortable.

"What?"

"You and the girl, our daughter," she said, amending herself. She _had_ almost forgotten Amaris was her child, as well. _What a good mother I am_. But that wasn't the point. "I've noticed, and I know someone else will too." He wasn't really paying attention to her. "There's something _unhealthy_ about your relationship with her."

But that got his attention and he was suddenly defensive. "What are you talking about? I haven't touched her, if that's what you're suggesting."

"No, but it isn't right."

"I've raised children before, Elphaba. This isn't something you know a whole lot about."

"Just listen to me for a minute."

"You have no right to suggest that I would do anything to hurt my child."

"But you _are_. She's a little girl, Fiyero. She shouldn't be the crutch for you to lean on."

"How are you the expert for raising children, I wonder?"

"All I'm saying is that she isn't strong enough to carry your baggage." He wasn't listening and it pissed her off. But what good did it do to argue? She steamed for a few minutes while a tense silence dropped between them.


	66. Chapter 66

A week of peaceful nights and counting. Then three in a row of torment and snatched sleep. Elphaba locked the doors to keep him from sleepwalking but that just resulted in him crying to be let out. Catch-22 if there ever was.

She spent every available waking moment at his side.

Nessa was as demanding as usual. _Something's never change._ Besides, Fiyero was equally demanding, in his own way._ Better me than the child. _

Day by day she worked on him, trying to help him regain a sense of self-worth. Maybe if he felt loved, he could heal. It had been working before...with the Scrow. But fell apart so easily.

"Too soon. It was too soon," she mumbled to herself. She glanced down at him sleeping beside her. "Sometimes I hate you. Ugh! The whole point was for you to learn how to take care of yourself. No, you just built walls. And now, lucky me, I get to pull them down again."

"What'd you say," he asked sleepily.

"I was only thinking out loud."_ This is my life. Going back and forth, taking care of these two._ Maybe Crope had been right, way back then. Maybe it was too much for one person.

He was still asleep when the serving girl brought them breakfast. Elphaba threw a sheet over his waist before the poor girl got an eyeful. He pulled it up, covering himself better. He turned on his side. She touched his arm to stave off any outbursts, even if he didn't seem inclined. She leaned down and kissed the side of his forehead.

"Mmm, nice wake up."

"I'll remember that."

He sat up moving around behind her. An arm circled around her middle. "I love my Fae."

"Love you Yero." She reached back and ran her hand over his hair.

The feel of a razor blade sliding across his scalp, shearing off the new growth.

It lasted only a second but she noticed the sudden tension, the hesitation. He kissed her shoulder as if nothing was amiss. But it was too earlier for an argument so she went along.

"What happened to Drel," she asked after a few minutes. He pulled away a little and seemed hesitant. So she added, "You talk in your sleep alot. I've heard name at times. I just wondered."

He still was quiet for a minute. "I think he died. I can't remember. I don't know why."

"Oh."

But he went on, "I saw alot of people die in there. The bodies were left. They didn't care. Not the guards, only a few prisoners."

"But you cared?"

"At first. That was the whole thing. The cells were disgusting: vermin and such. After awhile, I stopped caring about that too. They were taking our humanity away from us any way they could."

She uncorked a bottle of oil and poured some out onto his shoulder blades. She smoothed it all over his back. She was still irritated with him; he had come back more broken than before and still refused to acknowledge the worst of it. He couldn't help being damaged by what happened but that wasn't what pissed her off. She pushed her hands roughly across his back, barely keeping her anger in check. He propped himself up with one elbow, giving her a quizzical look. "What-"

"I have to go. Nessa will have a fit if I neglect her another day." With that she practically fled the room. She paused on the other side, wondering if she was being too harsh. He was using magic to overcome the inhibitions.

Maybe..._but damn it. I'm mad and I have every right to be.__

* * *

_

Nanny was on her trail again. Elphaba caught sight of the woman coming after her, looking vexed. "Come on with me now. You're sister has gone and done it. Best come along and see her before it really hits the fan," Nanny said before Elphaba could question her.

"But what-"

"You'll see. She's really out done herself this time," Nanny said looking grim.

Nessa was meeting with another random nobleman when Elphaba barged in demanding answers. Nessa laughed softly, as if Elphaba were merely a misbehaving child. "Lord Jax, if you don't mind," she said waving her arm at the door. She shared a smug smile with the man. "You are being very rude, walking in on my guests like that," she told Elphaba, sounding exasperated.

"What I want to know is what you're up to that has Nanny all beside herself."

"Oh well that. Elphaba even you have to admit I have been exceedingly patient with you these past few weeks. Bringing that lunatic behind these walls, causing mayhem at all hours. And did you know, he's supposed to be dead? Really Elphaba what were you thinking?"

"I was thinking you would be a reasonable woman."

"I am being reasonable. There are those that have advised me to have him commited to the asylum. We do have to keep a reputation."

"The asylum." Elphaba felt herself pale. She grabbed the side of a chair to steady herself.

"Oh now really, there's no need to be so dramatic. I'm not going to do that. I am as you say a reasonable woman."

But there was something. Elphaba knew it and feared it.

"There is always grounds for compromise," her sister continued.

At this point, Nanny walked in. Nessa scowled at her but said nothing to her. She turned on Elphaba again. "There is a doctor arriving shortly. He comes highly recommended."

"You have no right," Elphaba gasped.

"I have every right," Nessa said coolly.

"This is happening. You're doing this to him and I have no say in the matter."

"Oh Elphaba, you know this is just like you. Always turning yourself into the victim."

"Don't even try it. I know what you're on about. You're a jealous ungrateful bitch."

"Elphie!"

"Hush girl, before she _does _condemn him to the asylum," Nanny hissed.

Elphaba paled but luckily Nessa seemed not to hear what was said. She was too caught up in her speech. "My medical advisor claims that after a few weeks he should be acclimated to the medication and become more alert."

"More alert," Elphaba mumbled.

"Now, if you're done making a nuisance of yourself, Lord Jax is waiting in the hall."

* * *

_What was __**that **__about_, Fiyero wondered in Elphaba's wake. He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. Today he was lucky: they didn't hurt so bad.

After dressing he wandered the grounds. Sometime close to noon he heard Nessa and Nanny having some kind of argument.

"She has some nerve doing this to me."

"Damn your reputation."

"_Language_, Nanny."

"It kills you that she is giving him more attention than you. Or is it that she has something that you don't?"

"Don't be ridiculous. I am above such pettiness."

"Oh yes, as we all know: you are just so good."

"You mock me, but you know its true. I still have half a mind to send him to the asylum."

His heart skipped a beat. But before he could react, Nessa began to emerge from the conference hall. Fiyero ducked back into a side room; knees protesting at the sudden strain. Their muffled voices could still be heard but pattered off.

He emerged after waiting a few minutes only to come face to face with Nanny "That girl is so caught up in herself that she didn't notice but Nanny is not so blind." She eyed him shrewdly. "How much did you hear?"

He shrugged and looked at her. "What should I do? I can't go to the asylum." And Fae...she couldn't have it hanging over her head. But if he didn't do something it would only get worse.

"I'll go find Elphaba and try for damage control. In the meantime, you make up your mind," Nanny told him.

* * *

Nanny obviously decided to follow her_. Again._ "You should consider yourself lucky your sister is being this reasonable."

Elphaba turned on her. "Come to gang up on me, is that it?"

Nanny made a scathing noise. "I've seen her throw a tantrum over less and you have too."

"She's just jealous because someone is giving me attention instead of her."

"That and you being distracted. Lurline knows she needs to be the center of attention."

Elphaba leaned against the wall, mollified and she sighed wearily. "Oh Nanny, he deserves so much better. Life has been especially cruel to him."

"You love him very much then?"

"I am proud of my love," she said again, quietly but firmly. "I will not be party to this shunting him out of sight like some dirty little secret."

"Oh yes you will if you really care that much. I protested to your Aunt Sophelia's being commited for all the good it did. This is the lesser evil."

"But Nanny, do you really believe that she would send him to the asylum?"

"She might if you push her."

"He's not insane! Nanny, I'll be the first to admit that he's disturbed. But that is hardly the place for him. So I have to respect Nessa's wishes."

It couldn't be. Nessa wouldn't dare. But she was.

Elphaba wandered back to her-their-room, in a state of shock and disbelief.

_The asylum_. The idea of him being locked in there. It would be too much like the barracks. He would die within weeks. Her own sister was blackmailing her. The threat of the asylum loomed and she had no choice but to play along.

"I was worried the way you went running out of here earlier."

"There is a man, coming to see you in a few minutes."

"I know," he said quietly.

"You know?"

"I overheard your sister and Nanny arguing. It doesn't look like we have a choice. But it doesn't have to be that bad."

She took a deep breath. "I don't know how-" The door opened, sparing her.

Thorazine, the bastard was saying. _What did it matter? One poison was as bad as another_, she thought bitterly.

Fiyero lowered his voice, "You keep saying it doesn't have to be perfect but it'll be okay."

"Oh, you're going to throw that in my face now?"

Fiyero sighed. "No Fae. I was going to say that maybe it doesn't have to be so bad."

"Good luck with that."

The doctor, not noticing their side conversation, finished, "Life will be easier for all involved. Thorazine prevents any emotional distress."

"See," Fiyero said to her.

_With Nessa it was always bad._ But then he was probably only pretending to be calm about this._  
_

Fiyero picked up the cup and tossed it back like a shot of vodka, making a face. It was a disgusting syrupy something.

"It could take a few days but soon your body will become acclimated to it."

"Wait, what?" He stared at the empty cup like it was something venomous. _Too late now_, he thought with dismay.


	67. Chapter 67

Wildly my mind beats against you yet the soul obeys- Phantom of the Opera

* * *

(No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy/no dreams within her heart but dreams of love.)

_She ducked behind an alcove, and covered her ears. Five, ten seconds passed...she let out the breath she had been holding. Had she made a mistake? Or were the materials falty?_  
_She peeked around the corner. The bomb exploded as she looked but she was able to pull back in time. She held her hand to her chest as she worked to catch her breath. After regaining her composure, she looked a second time. Her heart sank; only a small section of the wall had come down. "Shit!" She kicked the wall in a fury of incredible frustration. _  
_She stared at the opening and tried to convince herself that someone could escape. With an effort, of course, but...oh hell, there was no way it was large enough._  
_Her superiors would be pissed, she realized, looking at it._

(The trap is set and waits for its prey.)

_She climbed the stairs to her loft, her feet dragging. Malky meowed raucously, twisting round and round her ankles. She suppressed the urge to just kick the damn cat away. Her muscles were sore; they had beaten her. Not badly fortunately, but she had earned it, for the botched mission. Maybe it was harsh but, she remembered, in this line of work there was no margin for error._  
_But her side campaign required that she not be badly hurt so she was lucky. _  
_The following evening she waited, as had become customary, wrapped up in her blanket. Papa, if you could see me now, she thought bitterly. She sighed, irritated that she should still feel this way after so long. _  
_He would be coming tonight._

(You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge/In pursuit of that wish which til now has been silent/Silent...I have brought you that are passions may fuse and merge/In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me/Now that you're here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided/Decided...)

_But she was failing even at that. He got under her skin and into her heart. It was as endearing as it was infuriating. _

_She opened her eyes glancing around blearily. The room was filled with the pale gray of dawn. And she had been propped up against, leaning into his torso. His arm encircled her shoulders, as if she were in need of protection. She turned her head, looking into his sleeping face. _  
_But then the moment shattered. She gasped, sitting up. Somehow, unknowingly she had fallen asleep. _

_"What is it," he murmured, apparently still half asleep._  
_"Oh no! No no no. What are you doing?"_  
_"You were asleep when I got here. I didn't want to wake you."_  
_"This is wrong. You're wrong!"_  
_"I'm sorry?"_  
_"You shouldn't be here. What the hell were you thinking!"_  
_"Last night was a meet night so I-"_  
_"Yes!"_  
_"Yes what?"_  
_"Last night. This is morning."_  
_"What does that mean?"_  
_"There are rules, remember?"_  
_"Keep on like that and I might think I'm not welcome."_  
_"You certainly are not."_  
_But that only made it worse. "What are you angry about?"_

_"Get out. Go now! And never, never come back again."_  
_"Uh-huh. I'll see you tonight then?"_  
_"Leave."_

(Past the point of no return, no backward glances/Our games of make believe are at an end/Past all thought of if and when, no use resisting/Abandon thought and let the dream descend/What raging fire shall flood the soul/What rich desire unlocks its door/What sweet seduction lies before us?/Past the point of no return: the final threshold/What warm unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return?)

_He came back of course. And she immediately turned apologetic. "I might have flown off the handle when I saw you last."_  
_"You certainly did." He spoke in lilting tones. He was poking fun at her._  
_"Oh shut up! Was it any wonder? The way you blind-sided me."_  
_"Ah, obviously I was out of line. Forgive me then, for showing you concern."_  
_"Don't push your luck."_  
_"Never."_  
_"Lets just get this done."_  
_"Wow, that really puts me in the mood."_  
_"There you go again," she said with a sigh._  
_"There's a job to be done," he teased._  
_She flinched, fearful that he may realize it was true. And leave her._  
_But he reacted by pulling her close. Holding her to him. She turned her face up and with his thumb he flicked a tear that had slid onto her cheek. Damn him! Every time he came here she turned into an emotional wreck. So much for being strong. So much for-Sweet Oz, that felt good._

(You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence/Silence...I have come here hardly knowing the reason why/In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent/Now that I'm here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided/Decided...)

_He slowly ran his fingers from cheekbone to waist. He thought of her viscous comment about society dames being living portraits. Where did she fit into that scheme? Was she not a verable living sculpture? The epitome of womankind? Or maybe he was still living a sheltered life? Whatever. He kissed her stomach, the belly button, the spot where her ribs came together. __He moved slow, no need to rush. Besides he might miss something. __Her body rose with his. Her skin flushed, breathing quickened. All this from a little initiation. She was ready. __So he rolled off of her._

_"What are you doing," she cried sitting up, gathering the shawl around herself._  
_"I'm tired. Its been a crazy boring, long day." He yawned and backtracked to her bedroll. _  
_"But I-"_  
_"Oh that. We have plenty of time for that. And we've done it before."_  
_"You're not serious? What will we do then?"_  
_"I don't know. Sleep together? Literally."_  
_She looked dubious and her mind whirled as she struggled for a reason for why this was wrong. _  
_Fiyero stepped forward, taking her hands. Leaning close, his voice at her ear, "It'll be okay, I promise. Just trust me."_

(Past the point of no return, no going back now/Our passion play has now at last begun/Past all thought of right or wrong, one final question: How long shall we two wait until we're one/When will begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom/When will the flames, at last, consume us?Past the point of no return: the final threshold/The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn/We've passed the point of no return.)


	68. Chapter 68

Note: Sorry guys, it's going to be like this until I can get my internet working again.

* * *

Nessa spoke, in that falsely lacquered voice of hers, "Now Elphie, you must admit that things are much better now."

"Yes, you've done us all a favor." Nanny gave her a sharp look. "Don't you agree, Fiyero?"

He remained motionless, his eyes trained on the blanket they were sitting. "Mmmhm," he said, in a low monotonous tone. Elphaba sighed, leaning over to touch his face.

Nessa's expression softened and she looked almost contrite. "Oh Elphie, I know its difficult but trust me: its for the best."

"For the best," Fiyero mumbled in agreement.

"You see," Nessa said beaming at her sister.

Nanny gave Elphaba and Fiyero both a long searching look before saying, "Nessarose, the Lady Lorena will be here at high noon, less than twenty minutes from now. You might want to be preparing yourself."

Fiyero flinched a little at the woman's name. Elphaba's brow furrowed at his reaction.

Nanny hesitated as Nessa was leaving. She looked back and forth between the two of them. "I don't know what you are up to. Nanny doesn't want to know. Nanny can't be expected to keep secrets for anyone," she scolded them in departure.

Elphaba watched them go back into the manor house. "They're gone," she said softly.

"So...how long do we have to keep pretending," Fiyero asked looking up.

"Just until we have a plan B."

"Yeah how's that coming?"

"I'm working on it."

He shrugged. "It'll happen."

"What I want to know is who made her Queen of All?"

"Hmm...lets think. Oh right, that was you."

"Do you not grasp the concept of rhetorical?"

He grinned at her.

"Cheeky bastard."

"You know you love me."

"Who is Lady Lorena?"

"No one important."

"Right."

"Why are you changing the subject?"

"Why are _you_?"

"Shrew."

"Idiot."

"Fae, do you really think this is the time for pillow talk?"

"You started it."

"Do you think she would have really committed me to the asylum? Or was she just trying to scare you?"

"I don't know."

"Fae, I can't go there."

"I know." She sighed. "Let's just keep this up for now."

He had taken the Thorazine for a week. Neither one of them could stand it. So now they kept up the farce when they had to and he employed a charm at night that blocked noise from their chambers.

"We should go visit Boq one day," she said. "I miss him, quite a lot actually."

But his thoughts were elsewhere. "It was terrible for me. I had gone to college. I was _smart_ and she could barely count to five. They were holding me back, dragging me down. Sarima, her sisters, even the children. I was such an ass. I could have loved her. Or something." He looked at her. "I could sit here and blame you for everything that went wrong, and the truth is that I have in the past. But if I hadn't wanted it, it wouldn't have happened. And now she's gone and I can't make it right."

"That's life, Fiyero. We make mistakes and fuck up our lives and then we have to live with it."

"But if I knew then what I know now, nothing would've happened between us. I would've tried with her."

"Don't say that."

"Its nothing on you-"

"No, I mean any man can be broken, you just have to find the right method. Its the same for seduction as torture," she admitted.

"Yeah," he asked, watching her face.

"Well, I'd like to think I've grown some since those days but I'll never hide behind a facade of goodness like my sister does."

"You did then," he pointed out.

"Yes I know, but we are older now."

He sighed. "I guess I knew at the time. I was just desperate for something real. You probably knew that though and used it for your own ends."

"People can change."

"They can." He hesitated, wondering how long to keep her hanging. "Funny how emotions get in the way. You weren't supposed to fall in love. It wasn't in the plan."

"No."

"Turned the tables on you, didn't I?"

She smiled, bemused. "That's not-"

"You can't prove that."

"Oh so you seduced me? That's how it went?"

He merely grinned. It was true, in a way, she supposed. Then he said, "I could be angry with you and I might be for awhile but I know that you stuck with me through all that mess. You saved my life, Fae. More than my life, you helped me remember who I was. I can't forget that."

* * *

The whole place was decidedly quiet. Elphaba had gone off some place with Nanny and her sister. Only a skeleton staff had remained along with him and Frex. He felt surprisingly good this morning, which got him thinking:

His knees had only started acting up as he was leaving Fliaan. Elphaba knew somehow; she had been spying on him. Was it to make sure he was alright or keep tabs on him? Something for them to discuss later on.

He took a few books to the Solarium and fell asleep again lounging on the setee.

A bottle of champagne was brought with a tray of hors-d'oeuvres. Whoever brought it hadn't woken him; the mark of a good servant.  
He sat back, sipping the champagne. It wasn't the finest vintage but it was enjoyable.

He smiled a little to himself that this should be his most pressing concern. That he could spend the rest of his days in perfect equanimity.

How could the two of them even be related? Nessarose hid behind her religion with a superficial claim of goodness. While Elphaba hung in the shadows, playing handmaiden and nursemaid. He didn't like it. It wasn't the Elphaba he had fallen in love with. He wondered what had caused this level of subservience. Possibly the incident.

He sighed, it was more than he should take credit for. Neither of them had seen it coming and so were blameless. Still, maybe he could help her as she had helped him. It just wasn't right that Elphaba tolerated Nessarose's behavior whether she was armless or not.

* * *

Maybe today would be different, better than all the other failed attempts. She did, however, feel guilty for lying to him. And whatever for. Amaris was her daughter too. She shouldn't have to sneak around to spend time with the child. But he would get so jealous.

But it didn't matter right now. She was free of him and more importantly free of Nessarose. At least Fiyero tried for some normalcy. The same could hardly be said for her sister.

She sighed, somewhat irritated with herself. She wasn't supposed to be thinking about those two. It was supposed to be about her and Amaris today.

She stood leaning on a tree as Killyjoy played a game of chase with the child. Amaris wasn't particularly interested in her and she couldn't help but feel incompetent at the fact. She did wonder if maybe that was the point and maybe this was the way it was supposed to be. She sat down and watched them play.

* * *

Coming home a week or so later, she went looking for Fiyero and found him out by what passed for an apple orchard. She could hear him talking though he appeared to be alone.

"So many people died in there or grew old without hope of release. Why was I spared? Why should I be so fortunate?"

He held his now useless hands into a patch of sunlight. "Freedom is such a blessing. The sun, the wind, the fresh air. Why have I been granted a second chance?"

"What are you doing," she interrupted.

He had the look of a child caught misbehaving. He also didn't answer right away. "Talking to Lurline."

She gave him a smug look. "I imagine that would be a rather one sided conversation."

"That's how I prefer it, actually."

"You do!"

"Shouldn't I? I don't need the answer."

"I never took you for a religious fool."

"How does having faith make me a fool?"

"The entire concept of a cosmology is beyond stupidity be it Unionist or Lurlinist."

"Ah...why exactly is that?"

"Well I-because it just is. The unionists hide behind the belief in an anonymous deity and the Lurlinists spread pretty lies."

"You've told me your interpretation of them but haven't given me an answer." He gave her a long searching look. "Could it be you don't have one?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"_That's the point Fae_. You don't have to have all the answers. You're not supposed to."

"You're only deluding yourself. Pretty lies, remember?"

"I think you're a closet spiritualist."

"Have you lost your mind? When have you ever known me to buy into that crap?"

"Its alright. Believe me, I know how hard it is. Terrifying even. But somethings are just beyond us."

"I stand on my own feet, thank you. I don't need some silly fairy tale to help me sleep."

"Maybe you don't. Maybe you really are stronger than the rest of us. But I imagine that must get lonely."

She made a scathing noise. "I am not so pathetic. I'm not my sister, leaning on scripture, using it to prop me up. You should know better and yet here you are sounding like Nessarose."

He glanced sideways at her. "No I don't."

"No you don't," she admitted, begrudgingly.

"I don't want to get into a theology conflict here but...I just feel so relieved now. Its not up to me. Or you. Or Amaris," he added, cringing a little. "And that's okay. It may be a one sided conversation but I really feel like She's listening."

"No, _that's_ not deluded. She doesn't speak to you She just listens."

"You're making fun but I wish you could feel what I feel."

"Fiyero, please tell me you don't honestly believe in that."

"How can one not? There has to be more than this." He waved his hand around the landscape. "There just has to be. All physical beauty is only surface deep. Even the trees, under the bark, their crawling with parasites."

"Is this going somewhere?"

He sighed and shook his head. "There has to be something better waiting for me. I've already been to hell. There just has to be." He looked at her. "Maybe you don't need faith to get through the day but I do."

"You're only fooling yourself."

"Maybe you're right. But I know that when I tried to control things I only made them worse. She'll show me what to do if I let her."

She stared at him incredulous. "_You are not serious_."

He shrugged. "What would you have me do? Keep being miserable because I don't have hope?"

"But you're _lying_ to yourself."

"Fae! There is something wrong with me. I can't fix myself. And neither can _you_."

"But this is not the answer!"

"Fine. I'll just go to Nessarose that way she can have me drugged into submission or hauled off to the asylum so I can rot. If you think that would be better."

"That's not fair!"

"And you are? Alright, so you refuse to acknowledge any kind of theism but why deny me?"

"You're a damn fool," she said, tearing away.

He sat back down in the grass, letting his anger burn off. "That's just Fae. She can be pretty stubborn, but then you already know that. One of the reasons why I love her."


	69. Chapter 69

It was a quiet morning, following a peaceful evening. In fact, there had been several in a row now where he had slept through the night without incident. It was as she expected, as the fear of the threat ebbed so did the nocturnal disturbances.

Right this moment he was still sound asleep, breathing slow and easy. She leaned over and rested her head on his bare shoulder. Waking up, he turned his head to her. A sleepy smile illuminated his careworn features. "My Fae," he whispered.

"I owe you an apology."

The smile faded as he looked into her face. "Fae, you shouldn't-"

"No, you were right. You're not going to agree with me on everything. I'd be more worried if you did."

"I need something to lean on. Maybe that makes me weak but I have to."

"I suppose I can understand the need, given all that you've been through, to believe in a paradise. But..."

"Yes?"

"If your Lurline does exist, then She still made you suffer that. Believing in Her is one thing, trusting is another."

"I'd be lying if I said you didn't make a good point." He paused considering it. "I needed to learn some humility. Granted there are easier ways to get the message across. But I don't know, maybe it was the only way of getting through to me."

"So...She was doing you a favor?"

He laughed softly at that. "I do wish She hadn't cared so much." His face turned somber now. "I survived and recovered through some inner strength of mine," he said to humor her,"and the one on one care you provided. But how could I have possibly ended up in the same place as you by chance? What are the odds of that happening?"

"I don't know," she said begrudgingly.

"But the thing that gets me is if you don't have any kind of faith than what were you doing with those maunts?" Her nostrils flared; she was mad again, so he wondered about backing off. But, "Agnosticism is an intelligent concept but atheism is megalomanic and that would make you no better than your sister." He probably should have left well enough alone. Her anger was so intense that he could almost feel the waves of heat coming off her. "You know you love me," he said with a hopeful grin. She made an irritated noise, rolling her eyes and turning her head but he could tell she was trying not to smile. "I trust you to take care of it if I _do_ start sounding like her."

"Oh believe me," she said vehemently.

A few minutes passed. "Fae, are we broken up?"

She turned a bemused expression on him. "We're sharing a bed. I think that speaks for it's self."

"Yes but we've made love twice since I got back and its been what: three months? Have our passions run out?"

"I don't know," she said very quietly. Then she added, "I want you to stay here. And be near me. But as far as the rest I just don't know. I do know I can't bear it if you left again."

"Maybe we're just comfortable."

"Maybe."

He sighed. "I know I'm difficult to look at."

"Water under the bridge, my love."

"So you keep saying."

"I know," she said sighing, "I'm not the one who has to live there. But we need to worry about the things we _can_ influence."

"Yeah," he said, staring up at the ceiling.

"Fiyero," she said softly. He looked over. "You're okay," she told him keeping her tone firm but gentle.

"Well you think so and that's going to have to be enough."

"It doesn't matter if we're intimate or not. I'm not going anywhere. I want you to understand that."

"Fae you don't have to-"

"You're right. I don't. I never had to do anything for you."

"Oh." Anticlimatic, but what else could one say to that?

* * *

The following morning he was in so much pain he could hardly move. So she stayed close by him and to hell with Nessarose.

She listened to his desperate, whispered pleas to Lurline for strength and guidance with growing distaste. "Look at you! Oh are a fool. Your so-called fairy goddess. Can't you see She has abandoned you?"

"You're wrong Fae," he managed to say only after what seemed like a great effort.

"Where is She? If you haven't noticed, I've been the one holding your hand through all this. And I'm the one doing it now."

But he had an answer even for that. "She put me in your path." She dropped her hands in exasperation and near fury. He was hopelessly deluded. Maddeningly he went on about the illusion, "She doesn't work actively. She just helps us help ourselves or other people. What I really don't understand is why you keep lying to me and to yourself."

Her eyes flared with anger. "How dare you-"

"Life's too short to waste time pleasing everyone, and I learned from the best," meaning her, "I might as well speak my mind. You keep on about how I need to take care of myself but the truth is you want me to keep needing you. I don't need you Fae, at least not like that. That's not why I'm here. You need me, I think. Or at least you think you do."

"All this time, they've been right," she fumed, "You are insane."

He sighed and decided to ignore the low remark. "Pain is clarifying," he told her. He was pissing her off but he didn't really care. The pain was agitating him, making him bolder than he ever remembered being. But he was surprised that instead of feeling guilty at challenging her, he felt relieved. Besides it was the truth as he saw it.

But he did need her. At least today. When pain spread through his limbs like liquid fire so that the slightest movement inflicted unendurable agony. But just as before he had no choice other than to endure it.

Elphaba stayed close to him. Fae, wonderful Fae. Early on he had been so addled that he failed to even realize they were the same person but now it seemed also that they were not. Fae: his special and secret name for her. Fae was his and his alone. Elphaba seemed someone else entirely.

But quickly and most severely the pain increased. What a fool he had been to think it was over when they left that sanctuary outside of Emerald City. And that he had thought he could go traipsing here and there all over Oz and beyond.

Right off those thoughts came something more ominous. He was 34; what would life be like when he was an old man, if it was this bad now? It was too much. Elphaba lay beside him again, running a dry towel over forehead and chest. Her touch alleviated the pain a little but not enough.

Very soon after he was bawling uncontrollably. She stayed close, now continually wiping his face. "You have to be okay for a few minutes. I won't be gone long." She wasn't but the wait seemed endless. He was slow in noticing that Elphaba hadn't come back alone.  
Nor.  
He wanted to yell at Elphaba for letting her in the room. He wanted to send her away. Elphaba had seen it all already but Nor wasn't supposed to see this. He was horribly ashamed but helpless to do anything about it. Lurline, you think too much of me!

"This is your father," Elphaba said to the girl after awhile. Fiyero was now asleep, under heavy doses of various herbs. "This also why you must forgive him for his failures to you. How would you feel if he were to die tonight?" Without waiting for an answer she showed Nor the door.

Elphaba sat in her chair for a very long time. The sunlight grew thin as she contemplated.

She twisted a pillow around and around in her hands.

Fiyero was out cold and would be until morning. She stopped fidgeting and stared down at the pillow she held. There was no chance of him waking for any reason. She had seen to that.

Her thoughts were much the same as his had been. What fresh hell would the future bring?

She got to her feet, moving slowly as if inhibited by the weight of her decision.

She stood at the side of the bed, staring down at him sleeping.

Oblivious.

She raised the pillow, but hesitated at the last moment, hovering over him. She struggled with herself; to do what she had to do, to stop herself. To make up her mind one way or another.

The door to their room suddenly opened, catching her off guard, sparing them both.

Nanny. For once Elphaba was glad for the interference. She dropped the pillow.

"What are you doing!"

"I hardly know." Elphaba dropped back into her chair. She covered her face, overwhelmed by the surplus of emotion. "He was in such pain today."

"That's not the answer," Nanny scolded.

"No. I know. I don't know what I was thinking."

"That poor little girl. You scared the wits out of her. She came running to me for help."

Elphaba winced in retrospect. "I owe her an apology."

"Next time you get the urge, come see Nanny and she'll spare you the guilt."

Elphaba let out a deep breath. "Thank you, Nanny. Next time I'll speak to you beforehand- Wait, what?"

"That's not a burden you need to be carrying around. Nanny's beyond saving and its just as well."

Elphaba tried not to look too shocked. She had just been poised to smother him in his sleep, after all. "Thank you, I think."

Nanny nodded her aquiescence.

* * *

She could not sleep all that night. As night faded into morning she picked up the minute signs of his waking. "How do you feel?"

"Much better."

"Good."

"What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired," she lied.

"Nor was here."

"She needed to understand."

"She's her own woman." A pause. "So are we just going to pretend yesterday never happened," he asked cautiously.

"Please," she begged.

"Okay."

She turned to him and kissed him gently.

He pulled away slightly giving her a bemused smile. "Really?"

"Why not? I never meant to keep you waiting." Call it a worthy penance for her almost sin against him.

He thought of painting her, what a portrait that would be. He closed his eyes and thought on it. Elphaba in the midst of a dense jungle, in her naked beauty. Lying atop a rock face taking her repose. Or between two trees, beckoning, an apple in her outstretched hand. He had the imagination but not the talent. The images, so vivid in his mind, would not commit to canvas. Good thing she was with him in person.

They moved together, in their little sun-washed room. The door was locked, shutting the rest of the world out. He kissed her throat, the collarbone below. A hand touched that extravagant hair. Her arm moved around his neck pulling him closer. She slid her hips up and down; the resulting rush was so exquisite that he nearly wept with pleasure but he wasn't even there yet.

He became restive. He bit the edge of her shoulder, perhaps harder than intended for she cried out along with him. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over him, bringing him ever closer. But she was just so good as to not rush it.

She gazed at him through half-lidded eyes. Turning her head, drawing even nearer, her breath steaming his skin, her body shivered with her own pleasure. And that was all he needed to send him pitching over.

She still loved him.

She still wanted him.

Even now.

* * *

She turned her head, shivering with disgust. Despite this she embraced him all the tighter, allowing him greater intimacy. It produced the desired result: she felt him climax inside her.

The only way to undo their dark work was to play their game. To leave him helpless and open to suggestion.

But could she keep it up? And how to even define her feelings for him?

The feel of him beside her was inviting, the touch of his hand enticing. And something deep and powerful drew her inextricably to him.

She just couldn't look at him. That hideous visage, that beautiful soul.

He lay his head on her shoulder, sighing his contentment. She smiled inwardly, and ran her fingers lightly through his hair.

He turned towards her, sliding his hands across her belly.

* * *

He lay in this half-dreaming state, reveling in the nearness of her. Nessa was gone off on some business and he had her all to himself. "Happiness: I could try for that." A sudden thought occurred to him. "We should make this official."

"Official? What do you mean?"

"We should get married."

She pursed her lips, considering. "On the one hand Nessa will be thrilled that we will no longer be fornicating, this being holy ground and all that tripe. On the other I'll never hear the end of it about how expensive the ceremony, how bawdy the entertainment."

"Does she govern your every move?"

"What choice do I have? She makes it clear on a daily basis that this is her property, her domain, her authority."

He was suddenly awake; he sat up to see her face better. "Elphaba?"

"What?"

"You have the authority to force her to abdicate."

"We're not going to talk about that anymore."

"Fine. But what makes me so different from Nessarose?"

"You want better for yourself. She doesn't care. And I told you: enough about my sister."

"Alright. We don't need a ceremony anyway. Lets just decide that we're married."

"Nessa will be scandalized."

"Yeah she would," he said with a grin.

"Is it-," she began shakily. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Is it any wonder why I would covet you? Five years I moved from here to there, hardly remembering myself. I thought you were gone. My whole world had come apart."

"Hardly aware of yourself? You mean like the somnolence I was in?"

"I imagine so."

And there it was: the answer he had been looking got. Let Fae say what she wanted. _It wasn't about me. You were the one._

"And then out of the blue, there you were again. A second chance to get things right."

"So much for your ironclad atheism."

"_Oh please not that again_."

"But you're the one who brought up vice, purgatory and redemption."

"Pulled that out of your ass, didn't you?"

"Why are you so adamant about denying the faith you _do_ have?"

"Why are you trying to shove your fool ideals down my throat?"

"I am not." He was a little offended by her accusation but let it slide. "I'm trying to understand."

"Understand this: there is no God unnamed or otherwise floating around in the vast expanse. You're deluding yourself and trying to drag me along."

Just like that he switched gears. " You should do it. Now. While Nessa is away."

"What," she cried, disconcerted.

"This the reason why I made it out alive. You need to reclaim your birthright. Do it now when she can't influence you."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Take the title of Eminence."

"What do I care for these people?"

"But think about it: you can work in opposition to the Wizard instead of silently raging against him. You can do some good here, further your cause."

"Nessa may be completely insufferable but she needs this for herself. Surely you can understand that?"

"No, I think she needs taking down a peg or two. That will be good for her. And yes, I do speak from personal experience."

"I can't."

"Well why not?"

"I don't see you running back to the Vinkus to reclaim Kiamo Ko for yourself."

"That's different."

"How exactly?"

"If I go back to Kiamo Ko I will only turn myself and the tribe into sitting ducks. And I was hardly fit for the journey I did take. Another one will be too much. That's a bad example for your idleness and you know it. I'm used up and incapable of rule. Assuming I did make it there the tribe would see this and advocate in favor of the current chieftain. You, on the other hand, are strong and capable."

"Those are just excuses."

"Well hell Fae, I'm tired. You keep pushing me to embrace the reality of my situation. So I am. Maybe that makes me selfish and a coward but I just don't have it in me anymore."

"Why should I do what you don't have the nerve to do?"

"Do it for me. Nessa can't send me to the asylum then and you know she will eventually just to undermind and keep you in check. I can live and die here without that fear. Do it for us. Think of the years we can enjoy together, safe beyond the Wizard's reach. And do it for yourself. Fae, you can be great. You can really do some good for Oz. And for yourself."

"You were a born politician."

"Thank you."

"That was not a compliment."

"Well I'm taking it as one. And you should do this. I think I gave you some good reasons why."

"The backlash will be terrible. If I do this. I don't think you quite understand."

"You're right. I don't understand. Why are you letting her get away with so much?"

"Just please: I don't want to talk about this."

"I'll go to Nanny."

"You wouldn't dare."

"If I have to..."

"How do you like that? Blackmail."

"Only because I love you and I don't like what I see. Its not you, Fae."

"Fine I'll do it, just to shut you up."

He smiled and pulled her closer to him. "Works for me."

* * *

Nessa was, of course, outraged to be ousted. Fiyero positioned himself to be within earshot. So did Nanny, predictably. She even told him, "The serving girl will be along any moment with a refreshment." He had to smile at that.

"Oh Elphie, how could you! And behind my back too."

"Well Nessa isn't that just like you: making yourself the victim."

"You had no right!"

This was too rich.

"Legally speaking: I had every right. This is my heritage, after all. And you have done a piss poor job of stewardship."

"How dare you criticize my leadership! All I have ever done is try to save the everlasting souls of these people. What little matter is their mortal sufferings?"

Nanny looked pointedly at Fiyero. "Nessarose knows best. A comfort to you I'm sure during those painful years."

In the room beyond the argument continued. "People can save themselves or choose not to. Its not up to you."

"Those peasants can hardly be expected to save their own souls."

"And you know what to do?"

"Of course! I am empowered by the Unnamed God with the wisdom and ability. I am more than capable."

"Well perhaps I will be similarly empowered. But I'm not counting on it. I'll be more concerned with their mortal suffering, as you call it."

"Renege, Elphaba. You must. I have nothing else."

"Oh give over with that. Its not like I'm throwing you out. This is your home too, after all." Elphaba came out soon afterward. She smiled, seemingly not surprised or offended by their presence. "I trust you two heard everything."

"She'll be completely intolerable for awhile," Nanny said, in case it weren't obvious.

"I'm proud of you Elphie," Fiyero said coming forward and wrapping his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head.

She pulled away after a few minutes. "I have to go. Nipp already called for an audience."

"Alright," he said smiling at her. "You go to your meeting and I'll see you later on." She kissed him quickly before leaving.

"You do realize what this means for the two of you," Nanny asked him a few minutes later.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh, "But I have to show her the respect she gave me."

* * *

It was nearly two weeks before he would see her again. She came back in the early morning, falling into bed exhausted.

He woke up just enough to move closer. "My shrew," he said kissing her forehead.


	70. Chapter 70

_Sarima shrugged, looking blithely unconcerned. "But why should anyone care? Don't animals belong on farms?"_  
_"Not animals, Animals," Fiyero corrected, exaggerating the inflection and speaking slowly with the hopes that she would understand. _  
_His efforts were unrewarded: she stared blankly at him. He clucked his teeth and looked away in disgust._  
_"I don't understand what's wrong about that," she said confused._  
_"Of course not," he snarled at her, "You and your sisters live in this ivory tower-"_  
_Sarima giggled interrupting him, "So they don't teach you everything at the University."_  
_"What?"_  
_"The castle is made of jasper.** Not** ivory."_  
_He stared at her as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. He felt a mean sort of satisfaction watching her grow more and more uncomfortable. _  
_She was so stupid, it seemed almost a sin. The idea of spending the rest of his life with her was unbearable.

* * *

_

They had been more than a month apart. Elphaba's position kept her away for long periods of time. He wanted her to be happy. He knew she needed it for herself. But despite being filled with servants and various visiting dignitaries, Colwen Grounds was a lonely place when she wasn't there.  
She found him sleeping in the library wing again. His safe haven. No doubt trying to keep his mind sharp while everything else failed. What else did he have but his intelligence anymore?  
She missed him during her absence. Much more than she had anticipated. And she would be leaving again in the morning; he may not even know she had been back.  
"I hardly know what to do. I can't be here with you yet you can't come with me. The last thing you need is more stress. I hope you know that I don't mean to neglect you. Of course you do, you encouraged this. Your own safety and my 'potential' over our mutual happiness. The practical solution but then you always had a clearer head than I."  
She moved around to the front of him and leaned forward to kiss him. He woke at once but before he could react she put her hands on each side of his face throwing herself into the passion of it. She backed up a little, loosening his pants, pulling them down.  
"Now? Here," he mumbled giving her a questioning look.  
"Why the hell not?"  
"Good point," he said. Just then she found purchase and his words ran dry.  
She always felt he exaggerated her prowess, but had also realized it was his inexperience that caused him to do so. There was Sarima- who Elphaba grudgingly admitted may have possibly been traumatized by her lot- and that little tramp across the desert. So what did he really know of pleasure?  
And furthermore even after living through that terrible time there was still something so pure about him. He seemed almost incorruptible. Without even meaning to he had somehow achieved what Nessarose claimed.  
At any rate he certainly loved her wholeheartedly.  
She slid forward, running her hands along his body.

"Mmm, it's been too long," she breathed near his ear. He grunted his assention. She pinned his wrists to the arms of the chair and the rest of his body with her own. She moved upwards and back. He let out a sigh and his head fell against the crown of the chair. He blinked slowly, staring up at her as if one in thrall.  
"Around my finger," she whispered.  
"Yes," he replied.  
She leaned down to kiss him, to lie atop him. She slid back down again kissing his stomach. There were numerous small scars there, accompanied by three larger, more pronounced ones. "Tell me what happened here," she said touching the middle one lightly.  
"Now's not a good time."  
She stopped moving. "I want to know."  
He reluctantly obliged, "The little ones are from fish hooks. The big ones are from metal splints. Sometimes he would heat them over coals before hand."  
"You mean he did it more than once?"  
"Why do you want to talk about this now?"  
She put her hand over his heart. "All that pain and you're still you."

She touched the scar again. "This is nothing more than a testament to your resilience. And while it might not be easy to look at, I couldn't love you more."  
"I've heard all this before."  
"Yes, but do you understand?" She slid forward, and back. Up again, to whisper in his ear, "You needn't worry about where we stand. After all, I owe you nothing. My favor won't run out anytime soon." She slid back again.  
"You want this," he said dubiously.  
Her eyes flashed up at his. "Why shouldn't I?"  
"Because I survived?"  
"Yes of course."  
"But it was easy."  
"I doubt that very much." She paused again. "There's something so good in here," she said placing her hand over his heart again, "they couldn't touch it. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe I'm blinded by my love. Does it matter either way?"  
"Maybe not."  
She stretched out across him again, rocking her hips back and forth. Softly, slowly. Her desire to make it last outweighed the need for release. He let out a little cry and his body tensed.

A second later he moaned again and she felt him relax a little underneath her. She leaned in even closer to listen to his frantic gasps. Another short moan. "Fae," he cried out crushing her to him.  
She put her hands on his shoulders and they locked gazes. She quickened her pace and he tensed and groaned in response. They both laughed at his exuberance.  
Later on she lay half dreaming in the crook of his arm with his blanket pulled nearly over her head. She sighed and told him, "I have to leave again in an hour or so."  
"That's too bad. Business to attend to?"

"You might say that. Honestly I wonder how Nessa managed. What happened here," she asked brushing his side with her fingers.  
"They were boiling pitch and-"  
"Boiling pitch!" She was so incensed she sat up. "How in the hell do they justify something like that?"  
"I don't know. That one nearly got the best of me. I was ill for some weeks afterwards."

She shuddered, just thinking about it. "I imagine so. That's awful. I can't even-they're devils!"  
He shrugged. "It's not like it hurts anymore."  
"Oh and that makes it alright?"  
"Fae it was a long time ago. Let's just think about right now."  
"It just makes me so angry-"  
"Hey I'm glad that you're still worried about that. I love you so much for all you've done. But it's enough. You can stop worrying about me and worry about yourself. I can be really happy here and you made that happen." He tightened his arm around her. "You're an amazing beautiful woman. But no one expects you to do everything." He kissed her forehead.


	71. Chapter 71

_Were they sharing memories now? Or maybe this was her own dream, borne from her knowledge of these things? Either way she found herself in a den of inequity._  
_A group of soldiers sat around a table in a smoke filled private bar, laughing and drinking. _

_At first she paid them no mind. Her beloved Fiyero was slouched in one corner. This was apparently in between he went before Morrible and his release the following morning. A metal collar was around his neck attached to a heavy chain that ran to a bolt on the wall._

_This wasn't real. Or not anymore. She told herself those things over and over. Fiyero was largely indifferent to everything around him but that scared her beyond words. The beginnings of his mental break. And it was no wonder; his back and shoulders were still raw and tacky from the flogging. The wounds hadn't been dressed but Fiyero didn't seem to care or even know. Pain and fear had become his life and the force of it shattered his mind._

_At that moment he was little more than a drooling idiot. It had been, she remembered, much the same for weeks and months in their little hideaway. The simple things: food, water, clothing had brought him back to reality. Much more tedious was the struggle against the fear they had sown in him. She strengthened herself with the knowledge that he was a much healthier person these days and that this was long gone. Still it made her blood boil that the only amenity he had been awarded was a thin rag around his waist._

_Then all at once everything changed. A voice rang out with laughter. A voice she knew and hated. Avaric Tenmeadows. Something in Fiyero's face suddenly betrayed recognition. He turned his head to look at his old friend, although she knew he couldn't see anything. "Avaric," he mouthed._

_There was a sudden hush among the partiers. "It speaks," Avaric said with humorous derision. One of the boys laughed stoutly, clapping Avaric on the back. Possibly Jemmsy and more than a little drunk._

_"Please help me," Fiyero begged. "We were friends." The words were difficult to understand but the meaning was obvious._

_One of the boys found this hilarious but Avaric merely shrugged and tossed back another shot of whisky. "They all are your best friends when they want something from you." Fiyero blinked and sighed. He wasn't really surprised or disappointed. In an instant he retreated back into himself. A desperate attempt at self-preservation. "Look," one of them slurred, staggering to Fiyero. He drew a switchblade and used it to cut Fiyero's arm open from elbow to wrist. "He doesn't care! We can do anything we want to. It's great." He was right. Fiyero didn't even acknowledge the fresh wound. But he was wrong too: there was nothing that they could really do anymore to hurt him._

She opened her eyes and looked at him in the dim light. "Try and understand: I'm only trying to return the favor."

"Hmmm?"

"Those stupid boots of yours. Do you remember: you gave them to me in Emerald City."

He was fully awake now and looking back at her. "Sorry."

"Well _I_ remember. It was the stupidiest, most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen. And also the sweetest, most loving gesture."

"Okay."

"The point is I felt loved. You did that for me. There had to be a reason even if I was scared to admit it. It's a terrifying, wonderful thing to love and be loved."

"Yes."

"We're not so different after all," she said, settling down again.

She didn't know why she had seen it, or if it had even been real. She didn't dare tell him, he would have some ridiculous, romantic explanation for it. Some nonsense about their souls being connected, while she found the idea of souls alone a laughable concept. She decided it was just the figment of an overwrought, overactive imagination.

All the same she took it to heart, what he said the night before. She didn't have to be everything to everyone. So as the dawn came in, she remained where she was. It just felt so peaceful, wrapped up in his arms. She had hardly closed her eyes before she was asleep.

By the time he woke up it was full daylight. Elphaba was fast asleep beside him. He smiled sleepily at the sight of her. A second later he remembered she was supposed to be somewhere else. "Fae wake up!"

"Sleeping."

"I know. But you're late. You have to go to Dragon's Cupboard remember?"

"To hell with that. My husband and child need me. Besides I haven't rested in weeks. One day won't be a catastrophe."

"I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

"We'll talk about it later. Let me sleep."

"I guess it's not important if you don't think it's important."

"Good boy," she teased.

* * *

For the first time in ages she felt unencumbered. Amaris and the rest of the ragamuffin urchins teased and tormented Killyjoy without mercy. Surely she would have hell to pay for this short reprieve but that would be another day. Right now it was just her, her husband and their child.

Fiyero watched the children play for sometime. Amaris paid particular attention to the boy Sinyh. Fiyero felt a strange animosity to the other child.

Fae reached over and touched his hand. "She'll be fine. You're the one who's having trouble."

He played dumb. "What are you talking about?"

"The boy won't harm her. Relax. She's fine."

"I know."

"Fiyero no one's going to take her from you."

"I'm not worried about-"

"She needs more people than just you. What are you going to do when she wants to get married?"

He didn't know what to say. He looked from Elphaba to Amaris. His daughter was still very young; he never even thought of her getting married.

"I don't know what it is they did to you that made you like this but it's not healthy for either of you."

_"But Fae, she doesn't know any better_."

"Doesn't know any better about what!"

He sighed, shaking his head in frustration and looking miserable. He didn't say anything for awhile and was blatantly attempting to ignore the children. Finally he moved around behind her, kissing her neck and shoulders.

"That does feel good but remember the children," she chided gently.

"We'll behave, besides who can blame me if I can't help myself?" He lifted her hand and admired the way the light played off of it. "There's nothing like it."

"You say that like it's a good thing."

He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. "Mmm very good."

"I know you're concerned about my affairs as Eminence but part of taking care of myself is taking a few days for myself. They'll survive without me."

"I agree." He slid his arm around the front of the plain white frock she wore and rested his head on her shoulder.

* * *

In her absence he had most of the mirrors in the place covered or turned around. After all, who wanted to see that. Of course she meant well, but it pissed him off when she went out of her way to change that. "You have to live with that person, Fiyero," she said before he could argue.

"That doesn't mean I have to look at it."

"We're not discussing this. I can go to Nanny too, you know."

"That's a dirty trick."

"It was when you tried it."

"Fae please. I don't want to see that."

"I would gladly oblige but that isn't fair to you."

"I'll take my chances."

"That's no way to live and I won't allow it in my family home."

"Please Fae."

"You think I'm stupid," she spat at him.

He stared at her blankly, thrown off guard. "No."

"Then what is it? I'm a liar?"

"Fae I would never-"

"Then start believing that there is a reason that I have not turned you out. I love you, Fiyero," she said snatching down the last sheet and jabbed her finger at the reflection. "Yes this face. This body. The one you _claim_ is ruined."

"But it is-"

"No! Do you know how tired I am of this same thing? And the people here, how tired they must be of hearing it over and over."

"Well I'm sorry my incompetence is such an inconvenience-"

"Just shut up. Today was supposed to be a good day and you've ruined it. For everyone!" She immediatly regretted her words. "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting you can't help it. They brainwashed you and you can't shake it."

"Brainwashed? I'm hardly swearing fealty to the Wizard."

"You don't have to. This doubt you have, its of his design." She came closer and put her hand on the side of his face. "I love you. I loved you at your best and your worst and I love you now. Remember earlier: there is something about you that I _can_ love."

He sighed and looked back at his reflection. "I'm trying Fae. Its hard for me to see what you do."

"Yes I know. But I can't allow this," she said, shaking the sheet she still held onto. "I'm sorry for losing my temper. Its difficult for me too. After all, we're in this together."

He smiled a little at that. "Yeah seems that way. We're quite a pair aren't we?"

"The perfect fractured fairy tale for this insane world."

"Of the half-crazed deformed prince."

"And his green skinned harpy of a bride? We'll give all the children nightmares."

"No magical kiss will change things for us," he said smiling sadly.

"Let me see," she said leaning forward and kissing him. "What do you know: it worked for me."

He shook his head in disbelief. "Well you must be in love if you think so."

"Ah so now you see."

"It's a work in progress. Keep bearing with me."

"As long as you put up with me I'l l put up with you."

He grinned. "We're stuck with each other then."

* * *

A blue pfenix came the next afternoon bearing news Elphaba had been dreading may come. Madame Morrible would be arriving within the week to discuss trade agreements. As if she would barter anything with the Wizard. But she had no choice, that old hag was coming whether she wanted it or not. Her first instinct was to have Morrible arrested. But Fiyero quickly shot this down: "If you do it will be considered an act of war. Besides there's no proof that she's done any wrong."

"No wrong," she cried incredulous. "After everything she did to you!"

"She was merely present for my so called confession. Granted I was out of my mind with pain and fear but that's all I remember her doing."

"So you can't clearly say she has not."

"Hating her is no reason to have her arrested. You're going to have to keep your emotions in check." She made a hissing noise in protest. "You know I'm right," he told her.

She shook her head irritated with him, even more so because it was true. So she changed the subject. "You must stay out of sight. She can't know you're alive."

"I agree with you on that."

"You had better. You didn't listen the last time I told you." He stared at her silent and unblinking. It made her uncomfortable and contrite. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest-"

"No its fine. I love your honesty. And don't say you didn't mean it. It shows how much you really care and how afraid you are of history repeating itself. But if I'm not going to act stupid then you can't either. You can choose to reject her requests but you have to play nice."

"Fine."

He grew more serious now. "Fae you have to try. This is important. I'm not going to live much longer-"

"Don't talk like that!"

"It's okay. I'm not trying to harp on anything. But it's the reality of my situation. I'm not going to be here much longer. I want to spend that time not worrying about all that. And I also don't want to worry about you after I'm gone. So you have to play nice."

"I already told you I will."

He reached out and touched her arm. "Do it for me."

"That's a low move."

He shrugged. "If it works..."

By ill luck Nessarose was the first to encounter Madame Morrible upon her arrival. The former Eminence turned to her old headmistress for help. "Please milady, you must help me talk sense into my sister."

"Give me a moment," Morrible said disconcerted. She eased her bulk into one of the chairs. "What is this about?"

"Elphaba! She stole my power."

"That is little of my concern. If you cannot persuade your own sister how can I be expected to?"

"As a loyal alumni of Crage Hall. Please I beg you."

"I'd love to hear your definition of loyalty given you chose to seperate this land from the rest of Oz."

"But I am a former student of yours. Surely that must count for something."

"My obligations to you ended with your graduation. You are no longer my student and neither is she. I didn't come here to settle your petty family quarrels. This is a matter of reannexation or possible alliance, things which are no longer your affair."

"But she is intolerable."

"That is a matter between you and she."

"She always underminded my authority. Bringing that lunatic here and everything."

Morrible looked intrigued by this bit of gossip. "Lunatic you say?"

"That disgusting Winkie from Shiz. Tiggular or something."

"Fiyero Tigelaar? You must be mistaken. I am certain he is dead."

"No that's the one. Stark raving mad and ugly as sin. And if that wasn't humiliating enough-"

"How trying it must be for you," Morrible humored Nessarose, who was near tears at this point.

"It is. I can't-"

"I'm certain my sister has filled you in on all the atrocities I've commited against her good name," Elphaba broke in. "Nessa you're dismissed. You can go tell everyone how terrible I'm being to you. My husband is resting. I better not hear of you disturbing him."

"You're married now?"

"This is business Madame Morrible. You did not come to gossip."

"Yes, but I had hoped to catch up."

"I have no use for false gestures. I'll just come out and say that I have no intention of reannexation. Tell that to your Glorious Wizard. Sources more cautious than I advise me that I must come to some sort of agreement with you."

"Sources in the form of Lord Tigelaar?" Elphaba paled at his mention. "Surely you did not believe you could hide his presence forever? For one your behavior smacks of his influence."

Elphaba was beside herself: she hardly knew how to proceed. "This is my domain. Tigelaar has no desire nor ability to take up arms against the Wizard. He also has no value for ransom."

"No value? You mean to say you could not be made to pay any price for his well being?"

That old anger boiled up again. "So he is to be the bargaining chip is he? You think I am so easily manipulated?" Elphaba got to her feet fuming. "I will never bow to the Wizard."

"So he is an expendable pawn? I had no real attention of alerting the Wizard but if it makes no difference to you."

"I'm not playing this game with you. Not for anything or anyone."

"I'm surprised at you. You would so easily cast someone for your foolish ideals. I would think his life would hold greater merit."

This damn woman was determined to trick and manipulate her. "I'm not buying what your selling."

Morrible stared at her for a long moment. "That really is a shame. We could have accomplished something today."

"You can leave. Now."

"You should reconsider your priorities."

* * *

It did not go well. Not that she had expected it to. She was in the Wizard's service whether she approved of his tactics or not and that woman was hell-bent on despising her.

She could not expose Lord Tigelaar's presence even if she wanted to. He had been broken and maimed by his imprisonment; his minders had seen to it that he was no threat. She granted him pardon with no authority to do so and lied regarding his fate, but how could she have anticipated he would survive?

The Wizard could not learn of her transgression. It would be on her head if she was found out.

But she felt an obligation to do something. "Gather the ingredients for a classic redimere spell," she told her page.

* * *

"I may have lost my temper," Elphaba confessed. She sat down on their bed and covered her face with her hands.

"You may have?"

"I did."

He winced. "Ah Fae."

"I know. I'm sorry. But she already knew you were alive. My darling sister must have told her."

"So what does that mean?"

"I don't know."

Fiyero threw caution to the wind. "Did it ever occur to you that you may be wrong about her?"

Elphaba turned nearly red. "Don't be ridiculous! She's an evil, conniving hag."

"Okay." He wasn't going to win. He got to his feet and was staggered by the effect of moving too fast. He grabbed the bed post to steady himself and put the other hand to his forehead.

"What's wrong?" Fae was on her feet.

He felt like he was falling a great distance and indeed he was aware of himself sinking to his knees. Fae came towards him but the rush of her movement dizzied him. She said something but he couldn't quite-

* * *

Madame Morrible sighed and turned away from the mixture. This would either work or it would not. And her Eminence would surely hate her all the more. But little matter, he would be in control this time.


	72. Chapter 72

_Another dream of him. Fiyero as he should be or once had been, young and strong and healthy. If not for the chains. __They wrapped around his arms and torso and ran to several iron bolts on the floor. He strained against them but the effort was wearing him down._

She woke up just then and sat up straight away. She looked over at him, sleeping beside her.  
It was not the same as before. He was really just asleep but hadn't woken for days. His eyes rolled around beneath their lids, as he dreamt on. There really was no proof that there was anything seriously wrong with him aside from that but she didn't much care.

Madame Morrible was behind this, had to be. All of her efforts to make his life easier had come to naught because of that evil now hated the woman more than ever. This was just one more reason.

She struggled against her feelings of helplessness. But she could not afford to be blackmailed. Fiyero, no matter how dear to her, could and would have to be expendable. She was charged with the safety of countless hundreds. What was one life compared to that?

Tears came unbidden. She bent over sobbing into her hands, ignoring the fierce burning.  
She could hardly bear the cruelty of her decision. But, she supposed, he may have known it might come to such a decision when pushing her to take this position. "You know I don't want to. I can't give in to her," she pleaded with him; as if he could answer.

A suffocating despair took hold, literally she could hardly breath for the force of it. The feeling that something had gone horribly irreravocably wrong and there was no hope of recovery. The room seemed colder now and its colors muted. Her life seemed to shrink before her; she felt the simplest tasks were beyond her ability.

* * *

_The sounds and stench of the other prisoners brought him back to his senses. Another damn flashback. Or maybe not. He touched the sodden stones beneath him. He sat up taking in his surroundings._

_This was his old cell back in the basement level of the army barracks. But how had this happened?_  
_He got to his feet, using the wall as support and looked around some more._  
_He caught sight of another prisoner on the other side. He moved closer for a better look. "What's happened? Why am I back here?"_

_The other prisoner smirked at him. "Figures you can't remember."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"They beat the hell out of you last week. We've been taking bets on whether you would get back up again or not."_

_"Did you win?"_

_"No," the man snarled angrily._

_"Sorry for the disappointment," Fiyero shot back._

_This was some vivid hallucination, he tried to reason. The last seven and a half years had been too tumultous to be his imagination. But this too seemed painfully real._

_I caught a fever somehow, some kind of infection, and its made me delirous. Then he wondered how he could have such coherent thoughts. There was something different about it now. Or maybe it was him._

_The guards failed to inspire terror. And he recognized that this was not just a stubborn refusal to acknowledge his fear of them. _

_You have no power over me, he thought, glaring at one of them prowling the corridors. The man caught sight of him and slammed his cudgel against the bars. Despite everything Fiyero was surprised at his own indifference at this scare tactic._

_Still he wondered, Why couldn't I hallucinate about something pleasant?The dreams continued and grew darker.

* * *

_

_Fiyero restrained a mockery of a surgeon's table. Blood came in diminishing spurts from deep cuts in each wrist._

_"You're about to bleed to death and there isn't anything you can do about it," a young man taunted._  
_This was Jemmsy, she was certain of it now. Fiyero's eyes followed him as he moved around. __Barely a minute had gone by before Fiyero began losing conciousness. He fought against it but he was losing so much blood that this was pointless. He clearly believed he was about to die._

_Jemmsy pulled a poker from a small furnace and used it to cauterize the wounds. Fiyero moaned softly and struggled in response but he didn't quite wake._

Their room in Colwen Grounds was now visible. She sat up, clutching her chest and sobbing. "I don't want to see these things. I don't want to know what you know," she told him. She covered her face. "Damn you, why do you have to show me these things?"

She couldn't eat. Food wouldn't stay down, amidst wracking cramps.

"What's wrong with me," she moaned to Nanny.

"Shush, quiet you. You need to sleep."

Sleep: what a dreadful concept . It would bring more nightmares. He had endured this for months and months. Years even. It was a wonder he had even a shred of sanity left. In the meantime she was coming apart at the seams. "No! I cannot sleep," she protested vociferously. Nanny pushed her roughly down. Her head struck the pillow. "No. No sleep," she mumbled but her eyelids had grown heavy as lead weights. The air suddenly became ice cold. She grabbed for the blankets but Nanny obliged. She was falling asleep again whether she wanted to or not.

_Another day in hell for him. "No, damn you! I don't want to see these things. Why are you showing me," she screamed at his spectre._  
_But he gave her no more attention than he would a gnat. Back in the inquistion room, Fiyero strapped to that table again but now only his ankles were tightly restrained. His wrists were bound in shackles but with long chains allowing him more freedom. But she quickly saw this only made it more cruel. A small basin was filled with hot coals several inches beneath where his feet hung over the edge. The pain would be excruciating._

_She knew where this was going; she didn't want to see anymore but couldn't manage to look away. _  
_He was able to sit up to reach the other shackles. But of course there was no way he could prise them apart with his bare hands. His ankles were now raw and dripping from the effort. A key rested on a metal tray some five feet away. He managed to get ahold of an iron poker, an instrument of torture now possibly beneficial. But at the worst moment a coal burst sending up an intense blast of heat. He jerked and the poker hit the edge of the tray too hard flipping it to the ground. He stared at it for several seconds. Madness suddenly flared in his eyes and he threw the poker across the room. He began shouting and trying to pull his wrists and ankles free._

Nanny abruptly shook her awake and she grappled with the sudden return to reality and how the dream warred against it. Whatever spell Morrible had cursed him with had crossed to her. Both of them being tormented by nightmares by that vindictive old hag. Was there no end to the damage she could inflict? Her thoughts were interrupted by severe cramping in her stomach. She bent over, clutching at it.

* * *

_Days and weeks passed by. Fiyero remained relatively neglected, something he was glad for._  
_But it didn't last. Jemmsy's voice rang out from down the corridor. Fiyero stopped short, the memory of fear giving him pause. More than a memory. Fiyero tried to swallow his pride and admit he was scared. He also tried to prepare himself for what was coming. _

_Jemmsy appeared at the bar gate and leered at him. "Missed me, have you?" Fiyero met his gaze, something, he suddenly realized, he had never managed before. Jemmsy knew it too. A flicker of fear appeared in the boy's eyes. _

_"You're afraid of me," Fiyero whispered, perhaps unwisely, for Jemmsy snatched the door opened and had his cudgel at the ready. A swift blow to the head staggered Fiyero. Jemmsy lunged at him, grabbing his throat. Fiyero was at first thrown off guard by this but quickly recovered. His hand found the other cudgel, hanging loosely at Jemmsy's side. Without even a thought, he ripped it free and slammed it against the boy's temple. Fiyero hesitated, shocked by his own action, long enough to note that the whole section had fallen silent in anticipation. But not long enough for Jemmsy to get in a good footing. Besides there was no turning back now. Something came apart inside him as the cudgel connected once more with his former tormentor._

_Jemmsy was already unconcious, apparently granted more mercy than he had ever shown. But Fiyero had no time to dwell on the unfairness of this. He delivered the killing blow; Jemmsy's skull crunched. Fiyero winced at the sound and dropped the weapon. He covered his face._

_The whole thing had been so easy. The guards were usually more cautious. He lowered his hands and stared at the body, while still reeling from the sudden conflict. He looked up at the door which stood wide open. There was nothing between him and the way out. Even the corpse had vanished: the telltale sign this was just a dream, though strange in its lucidity._

He woke immediatly, surprised by the sudden light feeling he had.A dream that wasn't a dream. Before he could think much on it, a soft whimpering sound drew his attention. He turned to see Elphaba sitting on the edge of their bed, crying miserably. He drew close, kissing her shoulder. She started and turned quickly to look at him. "You're alright!"

But his mind was on other things. " You're very warm. I think you may have a fever." He put his hand on her forehead. In no way did he feel like a murderer. It was like after finding Sarima: the complete absence of guilt. If insanity was an inability to determine right from wrong than maybe they were all right? He decided he was thinking too much and focused on Elphaba.

But her thoughts were only for him. "I was so afraid. With everything that's gone wrong already."

He fell a little more in love at her concern. Whatever anyone said, she was a good woman. "But what about you: you look like you've been through hell."

Her gaze dropped, a decidely unElphaba action. "You're so brave. I don't know how you smile."

"I had you to remind me."He felt better than ever but she did not look well at all. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying or illness. She was shivering, feverish and extremely pale. He stroked her hair, kissing it softly. Such moments of vulnerability were rare in her, that he felt a sort of guilty pleasure in seeing her like this. "You got yourself all worked up over me? Its appreciated but really it does neither of us good."

"I know. But it was a spell. I saw the most hideous things," she told him. "Madame Morrible cursed us both."

"Ah, certainly you have irrefutable proof of this. Otherwise how could you dare make such an accusation?"

"Well I-" She didn't have an answer, of course.

"Assume makes an ass out of you and me."

"All this time I've been worried sick over you and now you mock me!"

"How wearying it must be to be right all the time."

"How dare you!"

"You are so predictable: the second you hear something you don't like, the claws come out. Just a moment ago you were saying I was so brave."

"I spent all week here because of you when I could have been out there serving as Eminence. And for this!"

"It didn't help me in the slightest. And its done you no good either. Just look at you."

"You're a selfish, ungrateful bastard."

"No, no. My parents were married, but that's beside the point."

"Attacking me now, of all times."

"I'm not attacking you. But as usual, you're incapable of listening when someone disagrees with your opinion."

"Well I'm sorry I bothered if it was such a waste of time."

He sighed. This just wasn't working. So he tried another tactic. "I'm sick Fae."

"That's for damn sure."

"No, really. There's something really, very wrong with me. And you can't help me." It was clearly an effort for her to keep her mouth shut. "You mean you actually want to hear what I have to say?"

"Don't push it!"

He laughed at that but her heated gaze did little to deter him. "Fae, I know you've been trying to tell me that if I can be loved than I must not be wholly ruined."

"I've been having dreams. Of you. Things that happened. Did they bleed you?"

He hesitated, trying to remember. "There were so many things, to remember them all would be almost impossible."

Her face softened. "How quickly I forget."

"Fae, please listen to me. I know how it is: I used Amaris as a way to not to take care of myself. You're doing the same with me. I'm appreciate your concern but it doesn't help."

"I already told you, it was that hateful bitch!"

"Because she has nothing better to do than make our lives difficult?"

"How should I know why? She's evil."

"She only has power if you give it to her."

"Its just like you to say something like that."

He sighed again, in some ways she was worse than Sarima. "But I'm right. That boy owned me because I let him. The very thing I was so dead set against happen by my refusal to acknowledge the fear I felt. My pride nearly killed me and they certainly knew how to handle my type." But now Jemmsy is dead, if only in a dream and I don't have to live like that anymore. "One day I'll feel like a real person again. But for now, its the same old sin. Vanity. Did you know I still can't look at myself?"

"Its human," Elphaba told him.

"Exactly. Madame Morrible is human too. Maybe not an upstanding citizen but a person all the same."

"That was clever," she said wryly. "Blindsiding me with that stuff about you and turning it back to her."

He shrugged. "You shouldn't be so worried about what she does as what she makes you do."

"Hah! As if I would let her control me."

"Elphaba! What did I just say?"

"What now!"

This is still pointless. You'd think I would learn by now. If she wants to change she can change. But in the meantime am I damned to watch her make the same mistakes I've made? "Anyway, Morrible aside, it does me good to talk about it. I feel like since I got here I've been making progress again."

"You are." She drew a long breath as if steeling herself for something. "The dreams I had, really it was the same dream different ways, they showed you fighting something you couldn't possibly win. Those things might not have happened but I imagine that must be how you feel."

"For a long time. Funny how when I accepted it was something I couldn't win, I got better. I didn't have to win, it wasn't up to me."

"Oh just _spare_ me. You know I don't share your beliefs in that."

"Well... nobody's perfect." Let her make up her own mind on that account. Maybe it was his imagination but the elephant in the room seemed to shrink a little.

But then Elphaba had to ruin it by dropping another bombshell. "On the subject of pride, mine nearly drove me to let you die." Her color paled by three degrees and when he didn't say anything she got up to leave the room.

But he grabbed her wrist to stop her and kissed her near the temple. "Now you go be Eminence, and remember that I am safe behind these walls. You needn't worry yourself so much on me. And also, I love my Fae. Greatest woman ever."


	73. Chapter 73

Life was simpler now- better even- Fiyero was surprised to find. He allowed himself to ease more and more into the environment of Colwen Grounds. With Jemmsy dead, or at least the concept of him, this was easier than ever.

Elphaba came and went. Her elevated position was ever demanding and she seemed to be busier and busier as the weeks and months flew by. He saw little of her these days but when they did see each other it was sweet.

As her prestige grew his life diminished as if in equilibrium. For a time he wandered the halls of Colwen Grounds with a child-like inclination that there might be some hidden room somewhere that nobody else knew about. But this didn't last very long; there was only so much to see here.

This morning he was at his devotions. Lurline had guided him thus far, so he decided it was about time for this. Even if he had to use a Unionist chapel.

There were others here, remnants of the devout but despite that the place was still and quiet. Fiyero lifted his head and started to light his candles. _So much for simpler_, he thought, a touch of bitter frustration flaring up.

His hands just wouldn't cooperate with him_. It should be a simple thing to move it from here to there_. But his fingers were stubborn and stiff as ever and wouldn't curl around his lighting wick. It fell over and the tiny flame went out. He sighed, looking down at it and feeling irritated with just about everything.

_Seven years, it's been that long. Time to get over it, _he mentally chided himself. _This is life now. _There was an old Quadling woman off to his right, an odd sight in a Unionist chapel, let alone Munchkinland, but who was he to talk? Probably Cyan and Cerulean's mother or grandmother. He _could _ask her for help, but as always his stubborn pride won out and he struggled to his feet.

He almost made it out of there, almost. The girl, Cyan, had set up a blazing candelabra near the archway. _Keep walking, just leave_, he told himself. This thought was immediately followed by, _Something you'll__** never**__ do again. _A task so easy for someone without mangled up hands.

He reflected on this later, knowing even at that moment what he should have done. But frustration smoldered into anger, and reason altogether fled.

"What the hell am I supposed to do," he said, staring into the dancing flames. The girl probably thought he was speaking to her but he paid her no mind. "What exactly do you call this! What kind of life…," he stopped briefly trying for some self-control. But he had been too angry for too long without even realizing it. "It is no life. Damn you Lurline, what have you condemned me to? And for what? So Madame Morrible can distance herself from the Wizard's actions, and be free from any wrongdoing? For Elphaba's guilty conscience? Why should _they_ get to atone and not I? Sarima is dead! My son is dead! I wanted free of them and damn if you didn't give me what I asked for." He lifted his arms, holding out his hands, now shaking with rage. "And this: what is this for? How exactly did I earn this? To be a burden on everyone, including myself? I wanted to die, I wanted it to stop. Damn you and all the others who just wouldn't let it be. When is it enough? When have I finally paid for my sins?"

Someone grabbed his arm, just then but he was so caught up in it that he shook them off. He pushed over the candelabra, some of the tines breaking on the stone floor. Some scrolls caught fire, burning away to nothing. He smiled inwardly watching this, the sacred words of Lurline or rather the Unnamed God destroyed, his own small revenge on the orchestrator of his misery. He imagined (hoped) that these writings may be lost forever. He laughed, thinking about it, and thoroughly convincing the spectators of his insanity but he was tired of caring about that.

But then, "Daddy stop it," someone cried out. He saw Amaris clearly in his mind and that brought his senses back. But when he turned around, Nor was the one staring at him, looking pale and frightened. If the temple had been quiet before, now it was like Death had stolen in.

Nor swallowed nervously and met his gaze. She took his arm again, no doubt she had been the one who tried to stop him before, and pulled him out of there. He felt exhausted now, so he just let her lead him away.

It wasn't right, he should be doing this for her. But for Nor, like Elphaba, life had been cruel but that cruelty had made them strong, so what was his excuse. "I wonder, are you like your mother," he mumbled to her.

"You were married to her," she told him. Meaning : you should already know.

"But I never knew her," he sighed.

She frowned, not understanding. But what was to understand, he had lived with her for years; Nor was right, he should have known Sarima.

He sat down on his bed, not surprised that Nor had brought him back here. Several minutes passed in silence and she handed him a cup of something. Seems that irrational anger was not too far gone. He stared at the drink bitterly. "What's this, are you taking lessons from the others, let's all drug him and put him out so he'll just shut up and quiet down? Did Elphaba teach you that one?"

Nor stared at him, unblinkingly, confused as ever. Shouldn't he want to feel better? For the first time she was beginning to see him the way he really was. She had questioned before, what had befallen him making him this way, but only now was she realizing the scope of it.

"I don't want this," he said, pushing it back at her. "I know what you're trying to do, and I won't have any of it. Get it away from me. How dare you try to give this to me. And get out, I don't want to see you."

She turned to go, but then he grabbed her wrist, stopping her. Apparently his hands were working fine now, she noted. "Please Nor, I'm sorry. I don't want you to leave," almost begging her.

"What's happened to you," she asked in a small voice.

He looked unhappy and wouldn't answer. He took the cup back, also avoiding her gaze. "I'll drink it, I'm sorry." He drained it in a trice and set the cup aside. She sat with him until he was asleep.

That evening, all thoughts of the incident had gone from her mind. She was out with the twins laying across the straw bed they had made for themselves. She loved the way Cerulean made her feel, all the more because of her treatment at the soldier's hands. That being with a man could be a pleasurable thing. And more than that, he made her feel invincible.

But then his sister went and ruined everything. "I don't know how you did it. I was so scared, and you just went up to him and calmed him right down."

Nor shrugged and shuffled her feet, pushing them under a small pile of straw. "Something happened to him. I don't know what," she said, nervously brushing hair behind her ear. "He was missing for awhile."

"He's completely mad. My grandmother says the green woman doesn't even want him here. She just allows him to stay because of some kind of penance. She hates him and hates that she has no choice," Cyan told her, warming into the gossip.

"So your grandmother is the authority on this," Nor asked her, feeling venomous. Despite all, she felt a measure of pride on his behalf.

Cyan shrugged, ignorant to Nor's anger. "She holds to the old religions. She reads her leaves and looks at her crystals and all of that." y-stricken farmers and ranchers came clamoring to her for aide and succor.

"It sounds to me like she just listens to the kitchen rabble," Nor hissed.

Cyan shrugged again, unconcerned. "People are getting angry. Afraid too. They don't want to work in a place where they should fear for their lives. He's dangerous, he caused that fire and was laughing about it, I mean, Nor did you see that? You were really brave."

Nor didn't say anything, for all she knew Cyan could be right. Still, it was painful listening to the girl talk. She didn't seem to realize they were related, even if they were the only two Winkies here, but Nor didn't find it any less hurtful. She took it personal, and felt a little betrayed. And Cerulean, though not joining in, did know Fiyero was her father, and had done nothing to stop it. Nor got to her feet and left without explanation.

Elphaba almost knew before she got back to Colwen Grounds the following morning. Nanny was essentially waiting at the gates to let her know all about it. She retired to their room feeling overburdened and overtired.

She had spent three weeks in the Corn Basket. The poverty-stricken farmers clamoring to her for aide and succor. It would earn her little favor if she ignored their plight.

If that wasn't exhausting enough…

Fiyero sighed in his sleep and began talking. He used his native language so she couldn't make it out but it was always the same. Some plea for relief or release.

He was right; something fundamental had broken inside him. Broken by children no less. Most of the time he was much quieter about it than initially and she had hoped that the servants and staff no longer had anything to gossip about behind closed doors.

When she found him that day and began this ardous task she didn't antiticipate it would be so tedious and backwards going as it had been. But yesterday, however disturbing to these stupid, small-minded folk had been a step forward for him. He was recovering, slowly and painstakingly. Maybe one day he would be alright.

But she had no choice.

She put a hand on his arm. He woke at her touch and looked up at her. "Come out of that dark place, my love. You're safe here," she whispered to him. He put his head back on the pillow but didn't close his eyes. "What happened yesterday," she asked.

"I'm sure you already know all about it," he told her.

"I heard enough from the others, but now I am asking you."

"I threw a fit."

"So they say. What happened?"

He sat up, making up his mind how to proceed. Was there any way to explain it without sounding juvenile? "It's just not fair," he told her. _Because that sounded real mature_, he berated himself.

"No it is not. You don't even know the half of it." She pulled the pins from her hair and it fell in a cascade over her shoulders as she fell into bed beside him. Things were coming to crucible now and Elphaba scarcely knew how to react. She sat up again. "Can you help me with this damn corset?"

He glanced at the knots and lacing and finally his own hands. "But Fae, I-"

"Hurry up then, this damnable thing is suffocating me and I've been stuck in them for weeks. You haven't any idea how uncomfortable they are."

He sighed but started working at them anyway. Within a few minutes, however, it had become a tangled mess. He started to say something when she handed back a small knife. "Where were you keeping that," he asked bemused. She didn't answer, so he said lightly, "Maybe you should wear something other than black sometimes."

"Yes because pink goes good with green?"

"But Fae, they're calling you a Witch now too."

"Yes, well in that I agree with my dear sister. Let them have their fun. Magic is all sleights and lies anyway."

"That's Unionist talking-"

"Enough of that!"

"Besides it helped me."

"That's just an illusion, dearest, however useful. Imagine me: A Witch. _The idea_. I don't even own a broomstick."

"A rumor drove us from the Scrow."

She sighed: leave him to his own devices and eventually he'll get back to the issue at hand. "What happened yesterday was completely normal behavior."

He frowned at her. "How so? I can't-"

"You _should _be angry. You're supposed to be."

"But that anger shouldn't-"

"No Fiyero, it should have never happened to you. Yesterday, _that _was progress and I don't give a damn what the rest of them say about it."

He hesitated, considering what she said. But there was more to it, something Elphaba wouldn't say. He waited while she chose her words.

She felt at odds. Among other things, the barracks had instilled an intense fear of abandonment and rejection, and like he had already mentioned it had been their undoing among the Scrow clans. But this wasn't working; her concept that everything would just be alright if he remained here at Colwen Grounds. He couldn't stay and she couldn't leave.

Already these ignorant, superstitious people were agitated by his presence. He was a foreigner for one, for another outbursts like the one from the previous day would be upsetting. If she had been there and if she didn't know any better…

Besides, if she didn't do something it could go much worse for both of them. Apparently the asylum was being pushed on her again. That was the last place he needed to be.

"I've been thinking. Maybe it would do you some good to visit Boq and Milla. I visited them while I was out there and I'm sure they would be thrilled to see you again," she said cautiously.

He didn't answer right away so she pressed her case. "It's not good for you to stay shut up in this room like you have. Don't think Nanny doesn't tell me everything. You need to see more people than just me. And don't worry, you will be seeing me."

He had spent how long traipsing across Oz and elsewhere, and now the thought about going a few miles away terrified him without explanation. _Why?_ But he went along with it anyway. "Alright, so you'll just pretend like everything is perfectly alright and I'll just pretend like I'm buying it."

"Good boy," she said wryly. "I think it goes without saying that your daughter will be accompanying you."

That did make him feel better. "Thank you Elphaba. I hardly get to see her anymore. You always take her with you."

"Don't be ridiculous, Amaris stays with me. One day she will be doing my job. She needs the experience."

"But I thought- wait no! Elphaba, Nor hates me. She would never agree to it."

"She already has." This was a lie, of course; Elphaba had only just thought of it herself. "And of course she doesn't _hate_ you."

"She tolerates me, that's all."

"Again, don't be ridiculous. Why shouldn't she want to spend time with her father? If, as you say, she is the daughter who does know better, than why hasn't she left you yet? You know, if you really are as insufferable as you think you are?"

He sighed, hesitating again. "I hear what you're trying to say. I've already told you this."

"I know, my sweet. I love you. So does your Nor. And so too, I think, the Princess Nastoya, and now I am finding myself where she has already been."

"So Boq and Milla…"


	74. Chapter 74

"As it turns out, they were right all along," she said unexpectedly. She was facing away from him, staring out the carriage window on her side but he could see her bear her teeth in frustration.

"I know how you feel," he said, understanding better than he wanted to. "It's a bitch isn't it?" Her only answer was her striking the leather wall with one fist. He watched her silently for a few minutes before pressing it. He had an idea anyway. "What do you mean though?"

"I thought…I had hoped that I would be enough. That if I was just patient enough and strong enough that you would be okay."

"You can't fix me, Fae."

She threw up her hands in reluctant resignation and still wouldn't look at him. "Where did I go wrong?" He laughed softly at that and she whirled around so fast it was a wonder she didn't get whiplash. "This is funny to you!"

"Yes. Don't you see Fae: we keep fighting with ourselves and not getting anywhere. It's funny because I keep doing the same."

In the meantime, Nor sat stock still across from them, her eyes following the two of them in turn. Amaris leaned up against her, sound asleep; the only one able to rest with the carriage incessantly rocking.

"Damn our pride. If we'd just back off and stop trying to control everything, we'd be a lot better off. Like me, back in that hell, did I bring it on myself? Maybe not. But it could have been easier and I certainly played right into their hands."

"All I wanted was for you to be happy. I thought if I let you go off and find your Sarima and then come back to Colwen Grounds were you would be safe that everything would just work out."

"You did go looking for her, didn't you," Nor said quietly but no one else heard.

"It is working out, just not the way you wanted it. Lurline's taking care of it," he said, more to himself than Elphaba.

"_Lurline_," she hissed. "I thought you were _over_ that!"

"Over it," he repeated, now getting angry himself. "No, I'm not over it."

"Just the other day, you were cursing her name for what She put you through. How can you possibly still hold to that _ridiculous_ notion?"

"I was cursing your name too. Perhaps you would like it if I turned my back on you as well?" She didn't answer, not that surprising anymore. Even Elphaba was not so bad that she couldn't listen. "Besides I was more angry with myself anyway. I want what you want. To be happy; I'm so tired of being angry and miserable." He thought about that dream and its significance. Jemmsy dead at his feet and by his hand. The opened door in front of him. There was an answer, there was a way out and it was within his grasp. If only he could see it.

He was lost in his thoughts for a while. He was sure it was so easy and that he was only making it complicated.

"I'll see you there, and stay for dinner but then I have to leave. Amaris and I have to leave," she said stiffly.

"For what its worth, Fae, I don't feel like you're giving up on me."

She sighed, softening and steeling herself for the inevitable at the same time. "Alright."

"I don't want you worrying about me, with everything else on your plate. The best thing you can do is keep Munchkinland a free state so I don't have to keep looking over my shoulder. If you do that then it will be enough."

"I should be the one trying to make you feel better."

"No, and that's never going to work. Part of you helping me is letting me help you. Otherwise we're not equals and if we're not equals then I always need you and I never go anywhere. We tried this once already and neither of us was ready for it but maybe now we are. I think now we're both stronger."

"I feel like I'm no better than the rest. Shoving you out of the way; keeping you quiet and out of sight. "

"But that life's not for me anymore, if it ever was. It's too public. Too many people coming in and out of Colwen Grounds every day. Munchkinland's take on Emerald City on a lesser scale. I try to relax but there's just too much going on. And whether we like it or not that's not the place for me. It does matter what they think. You're nothing without those people."

"I don't care about that. _Them_. Ask me and I will leave it. And I'll stay with you."

"Now there's an idea: turn Munchkinland back over to Nessarose. Some revolutionary or disgruntled farmer will cut her throat within the hour and we'll all be at the mercy of the Wizard by noontime. Or worse Shell: anarchy and lawlessness, not to mention good old-fashioned debauchery. Now there's someone who should be in office. But you, you've made it now: you've got quite a scandal on your hands. You've become a real politician."

She smiled weakly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.

"I'd love it if you would come with me," he told her. "Rush Margins and the Corn Basket can be our little hideaway. Our Ivory Tower, if you will. To hell with our obligations and responsibilities, we deserve to be happy, don't we?"

"Yes," she whispered very quietly.

"Well, I can only use my own experience but for me that attitude only made things worse in the long run." A pause. "I'm not going to ask you."

She sighed and rushed to change the subject. "It should only be a few hours now."

* * *

Elphaba pushed ahead, as she was wont to do, and was the first to climb out. Fiyero hesitated, before following her. In fact, he didn't even move. "What's wrong," Nor prodded.

"I don't know," he said, then added, "Nothing." He grabbed hold of the leather handle and used it to get down. It would be impossible to explain why his nerves were so shattered right now, especially given there was no logic as to why. He caught Nor giving him a strange searching look. "What is it?"

"Your hands…I thought that-"

"It's so damp here, I can hardly use them. It's going to be hell here. Of course I shouldn't complain: not long ago this whole place was practically a desert. What is my arthritis compared to the wellbeing and livelihood of these people?"

_But you just did_, she wanted to say. She didn't, hardly knowing how to press her case. The more she learned of him the more confused she felt. How could someone lie about something and not realize they were doing it?

"Boq and Milla were friends of ours, Elphaba's and mine, from when we were at the University. I wonder what they will think of me now," he said, sounding more than a little bitter. "She's in there now, taking _care_ of it. Sometimes I wish she would just _back off!_"

"Did you want to talk to them?"

"No," he said quickly and paled a little at the idea.

"Then who-"

"Look, I'm just tired of her thinking she has to hold my hand all the time," he snapped at her.

"You should listen to yourself. Maybe look too."

He frowned and looked at her again. "What-"

"I'm trying really hard to like you. But you make no sense," she told him.

"Communication," Elphaba said, coming back to them.

Nor ducked her head and hurried away to the small cabin.

"You were having a conversation with her," Elphaba said, smiling at him.

"She walked away angry."

"Yes, well she's a sixteen year-old girl. They tend to do that. Occupational hazard of being a father."

"Yes but every time I talk to her I only make her mad. She can barely stand to be around me."

"Again Fiyero, that's _normal. _You make too much of it. Now, you're keeping them waiting. Hurry up."

* * *

_Notes: Not to be obvious, but this was mostly a transitionary chapter. Nor's growing up and recgonizing some of what's happened instead of just punishing him. She's going to be a more important character at least for awhile. _

_Generally, in today's society a person recovers from ptsd within a year or so. That is with therapy and/or medication. I'm not dragging it out just to drag it out, not too much I hope anyway. Plus, Fiyero is frustrated as hell that he is still dealing with it, but as the avoidance aspect of the disorder is his most prevalent that makes him his own biggest obstacle. Though lately he is better at adressing it. Depression, anxiety and a mild case of agoraphobia; I've played around with the concept of split personalities as a coping method but that was always in the background._

_And yes, his hands were broken repeatedly being now damaged past repair but as Nor is picking up, the worst of it is in his head. The ideas proposed by Jemmsy and the other soldiers of him being helpless and unable to save himself coming out in a physical symptom. So many chapters back he tried to overcome the feeling of inferiority by taking on an impossible task and making the issue worse._

_Despite everything, he's still mostly optimistic, at least compared to Elphaba. Never mind that he was essentially thrown out of Colwen Grounds, don't worry he'll be back there before too long. He'll look at it more as away to reconnect with Boq and Milla and starting over with Nor. But without Elphaba. Again trying not to be obvious, mostly thinking out loud when I write these things, but of course they love each other, but with more than a little hate and loathing in their weird, warped codependent relationship, it's not always for the best._

_Moving along, this will actually go on for awhile yet. But in the future, there will be Dorothy and those famous shoes just in time to stir things up again. I so picture Elphaba acting all cool and calm around everyone after the whole affair like she's gotten over them and then slinking off to some room and pulling them out of a drawer or something to obsess over them some more. Further still conflict between her and Shell when he proclaims himself Emperor Apostle. Naturally he uses the family ties to try to get her to bow to his authority but this is Elphaba we're tallking about..._

_Well anyway, sorry it took so long. I'm really, really back now._


	75. Chapter 75

The drought was certainly a thing of the past. The rain had gone on for several days now. Rainwater leaked in through one corner dripping throughout the house. Boq arrayed himself in rain coats and boots and went to the roof to repair it. Fiyero listened to the sounds of his hammering.

The air was heavy and damp, not only from the rain but from the laundry boiling over the fire. The smell of soap was most prevalent. Inexplicably it was this smell that teased at Fiyero's memory.

_He had been there for some time, he knew, as awareness came back to him. Someone was singing, what a lovely voice. "Somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me, my lover stands on golden sands and watches the ships that go sailing."_

_Proverbially, he couldn't see anything anyway, he closed his eyes and relaxed a little. To hear her sweet voice better…_

"_Somewhere beyond the sea, he's there watching for me. If I could fly like birds on high than straight to his arms I'd go sailing."_

_She ran a cloth across the back of his neck, down his chest, dipped it in the water and squeezed it over his hair. But something was wrong; she shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't remember why. He couldn't even be sure of who they were._

"_It's far beyond the stars. It's near beyond the moon. I know beyond a doubt, my heart will lead me there soon."_

_Her voice caught somewhere in the middle and that made things a little clearer. Somehow the water was painful to her but she was doing it anyway. "Why are you doing this," he asked her._

_There was a sharp intake of breath, clearly he had started her. He realized she hadn't expected him to say anything, but again the details escaped him. "And why shouldn't I," she replied, fiercely and a little defensively._

"_I-," his voice sounded strange, even to his own ears. There was something about that too, but he was afraid to go there. He fell silent._

_She hesitated waiting for something, he didn't know what. But he didn't know what else to say to her. "Are you still here," she asked him, sounding almost afraid. He didn't answer, not understanding her question. Wasn't she right next to him? "Where do you go when you leave," she asked, putting her hand to his face._

_Eventually she went back to bathing him, but with an air of sadness and resignation. "We'll meet beyond the shore. We'll kiss just as before."_

"_Happy we'll be beyond the sea_," Fiyero hummed under his breath. He tried to draw an image of Fae in his mind, of how she must have looked at that moment. But the only image he could manage was of her in the Vinkus, the moment she declared herself a Scrow woman, looking proud and fierce as any of that tribe and mind-numbingly beautiful. "I had to," he told her. Milla was preoccupied with her many chores and so paid him no mind. "I had to get away from all of that. It was too much. The only way was for me to turn away from it. I didn't know how else to stay alive."

Her eyes seemed to rebuke him, like they were say, "Why explain yourself?"

Part of him registered this, but the rest of him felt caught in some wrongdoing. "I need to be here, Fae. Away from you and all of that. Your sister built a wall between me and them, and you're keeping it there. They can't touch me, even if they do know I'm here. That's more than enough. I know you love me, I know you do. But that's not love and I won't be pitied. You're keeping me small, like you and your family kept Nessarose small, and you complain that she is the way she is, and yet you made her that way. I can't stay small. I can't be looked after anymore."

Milla turned away from the laundry leaving to dry on wires stringing through the kitchen, a baby nestled in one elbow. She loosened the front of her dress, like she had completely forgotten about Fiyero and offered a breast to the child. Fiyero choked on his drink and looked down.

No one had said much these few weeks but the effect was like he and Nor had been here all along. Milla had started some water boiling over the stove. "More tea," she asked. He glanced back up at her trying not to notice that she was still half exposed.

"Um…" She shrugged and tilted more water in his cup. "Okay," he responded, unnerved. He couldn't remember if she had always been like this.

But looking closer he saw how exhausted she was, the dark spots under her eyes, hair in disarray. Nothing like the high maintenance teenager she had been. He started to help her but then Boq came back inside soaked and looking just as tired. "I need your help," he said. For a moment Fiyero thought Boq was being too demanding of his wife but then he realized Boq was talking to him.

"What? But I can't-" Boq didn't wait for that, he had already gone back into the rain.

Five, ten minutes passed. Huddled in one drafty corner of a lean-to, Boq waited for him to come out. "Took you long enough," was all he said, when Fiyero got there.

"Shouldn't we wait for the rain to let up?"

"If I followed that mantra then this whole place would go to hell. Life doesn't wait."

Fiyero looked at him but dropped it. "What do you need?"

"Right there," Boq said, indicating right over their heads. Some of the planks had rotted and were held together by rusted tin. "Stay here for a minute, I need to get some more hinges for it." And he was gone again.

Fiyero waited for him to come back. After a few minutes he sat down on an upside down bucket and looked around. A small can of nails and bolts, a few boards. It should be enough to fix it and it looked easy enough to do. What on earth did Boq need hinges for? And what was taking him so damn long?

* * *

"How long do you think it will take," Boq asked.

Milla scowled at him. "What I think is that you're being cruel. You should be helping him."

"I am helping him," he replied mildly.

She made a sound like an angry cat and turned away.

* * *

Boq wasn't coming back. Fiyero felt stupid and angry thinking about it. What the hell was this about? Did Boq really think he could fix it on his own?

A few minutes passed. Fiyero kicked over the can of bolts in frustration and stared at them lying in the mud. There was a hammer too, everything that was needed. Maybe it wouldn't be that hard…

It took ten minutes to fix and he had been out here for nearly an hour, waiting like a fool. He could be dry by now, but instead he was still shivering and wet. But he stood there for a moment, just outside the little shelter staring at it, wondering how he could go for months and months and make no progress, yet in a few days come so far.

"But what's different now," he asked himself on the way back, already knowing the answer. "Before you were trying to go back, and you did go back. Lost a lot of ground. Now you're trying to move forward and it's not so hard after all. And maybe you're not so bad either," he answered himself. "Maybe."


	76. Chapter 76

The house was empty this morning, but for he and Nor. Boq and Milla and their ten-plus children had gone to market for the day.

Nor was outside. He could hear her singing around the back; probably gathering herbs or wild flowers to pass the time.

It was immensely boring here, having nothing to do. Fiyero found some paper in a cupboard, and only felt a little guilty for wanting to use it. There was an old inkwell half hidden in the clutter on the table. He was surprised to find that it hadn't dried up.

_I don't know where to start. I'm still so out of sorts with just about everything._

For some reason, he started writing in the Arjiki language. He wondered why, sometimes he didn't understand himself. But then he decided maybe it was best if he was the only one who could read what he wrote.

_To Jemmsy_

_You were a boy. That's all. I've known that for a long time but understanding came slow. You weren't the monster you became in my mind. Your superiors put you to use and you did as you were told, hardly aware of the evil of your actions. And who really knows what put you in that position; what decisions of your own or other's decisions led you to that point. Besides, if not you than someone else. Jemmsy, I forgive you._

_I killed you in my dream. You don't own me anymore._

_To the Great Oz_

_You were afraid of me. If not for that fear than none of this would ever have happened. I went to University for education and put that education to use for my people. The Arjiki prospered under my rule and drew your attention. Why else should it be me? Why not the Princess Nastoya or the leader of the Yunamata, should they have one? So I needed to be put away, my son murdered, my family and line wiped out. You were afraid. Maybe I'm amplifying my own importance, but believing it is the only way I can move on. Wizard, I forgive you._

_To Madame Morrible_

_You weren't afraid of me, not in the least. In fact, I was so insignificant to you that you turned me out to die rather than face the executioner. Still, the sight of that beaten and broken prisoner moved you to pity and I don't yet know how to feel about that. That dream, if of your design, saved me in the end. Were you trying to help me? Are you like Jemmsy and bound in servitude to those with more power? You did what you could, and I thank you and forgive you for that. I'm not powerless anymore._

He paused in his writing, repeating those words back to himself_. I'm not powerless anymore. _The significance and truth of it frightened and elated him in equal measure.

_To Elphaba_

_I hate you more than I can possibly describe. You who condemned me to life. It should be over. I should be with my wife and son. How dare you play god and force this existence on me. What gives you the right? Because you felt guilty and you needed recompense? How could you be so damn selfish and demanding? Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to just make it until tomorrow? Life after that, how cruel; why couldn't you just let me go and find peace? Damn your guilt and to hell with you making amends. Why couldn't you love me more than yourself? I hate you and I will never forgive you for what you've done._

_I love you, you're my Fae, always. You taught me what it was to be truly happy and your heart is so big that it's a marvel it fits inside you. Maybe I'm biased and still painfully naïve but sometimes it seems that we were truly made for each other. The thought of you helped me survive that place and your love saves me every single day. If I didn't have you in my life I would never have made it half as far. What have I done in my life to deserve such an amazing beautiful woman? You make every day worth living. I feel truly blessed to have you with me._

_You always said you loved me and I didn't understand what you meant. It seemed that you were saying that that love would make everything okay. But no, you could love me and that meant I was okay. Like you said, not perfect but okay. Too much pressure on me, when I could have just let it go._

_We never say what we mean, you and I. And probably most other people are the same. Your love and my fear are my two greatest obstacles. You say I need to live with myself and make myself happy and Lurline knows I want that too. But I know if you had your way I would stay in Colwen Grounds and you and everyone there would take care of me until the day I die and I would let it happen because I'm tired and wore out and feeling sorry for myself because I was handed a raw deal. It would be so easy to just continue on that way. But as they say, 'Nothing worth doing is ever easy.' _

_To Nor_

_I was wrong and I was stupid and I'm sorry for everything but that changes nothing. I've finally accepted I can't change the past and forget about fixing it. But maybe we can work on the future? I'm so glad you're letting me in. Thank you and I love you always._

He hesitated again, dreading the next part. Elphaba had once said this was the most difficult, demanding and unforgiving person he would ever meet and only now was he finding out how right she had been.

_To myself_

_She's right. You are okay. You don't have to be perfect all the time, or any of the time. You can't be, and neither can anyone else and that's okay. You were stupid and a fool and burned some bridges for yourself that should have never been burned. But you were a boy pretending to be a man, pretending to be a prince and it's not okay but it's okay because you're only human like the rest of them and we all do stupid things._

_The barracks was a hideous place. No man, not a murderer or a thief, deserved to be there. You didn't deserve to be there. They cut you and burned you and beat with you with their clubs. You couldn't win. You couldn't endure it forever and at that time you couldn't have changed your situation. It would've been impossible. So stop wasting time telling yourself that if you had just done this or that maybe it would've been different. And stop feeling ashamed because you gave in. They took everything you had, stripped you down to nothing, and yet you feel guilty? Why and what purpose does that serve? Think about it: never mind the torture, but just trying to get some rest. The insects and the rats and the smell. And it was always too cold or too hot. It was a miserable place to be and there was no hope and there was no way that you could've saved yourself. So what if the weight of all of that crushed you? It was bound to happen and there was nothing you could've done to stop? So please, please stop punishing yourself._

_But that part of your life is long gone. They can't hurt you anymore. They don't own you anymore. Stop letting them. You're going to have nightmares, you're going to remember things, it's not going to go away ever. But it's in the past. You don't have to live there anymore .I've already told you, you are not powerless anymore._

_Remember: you bring nothing to Elphaba materially speaking, yet she still loves you. Meaning she didn't love the Prince of the Arjikis, with his wealth and his title and all of that nonsense. She loved you: Fiyero the person, with all of his faults and shortcomings. And Nor, she forgave you didn't she? There has to be a reason._

_I'm begging you, please move on. Stop defeating yourself and just let it go. Forgive those people and really mean it. Think about Nor and how you can spend time with her. Think about Elphaba and Amaris and even Manek and how it will be when you finally see them again. And damn it, when you have a nightmare just let it go and accept that it's going to happen and it's not your fault that it has._

_I think that you're going to be alright. _

_I forgive you. Will you forgive me?_


	77. Chapter 77

_She dropped her shyness like a nightgown, and in the liquid glare of sunlight on old boards she held up her hands-as if, in the terror of the upcoming skirmish, she had at last understood that she was beautiful. In her own way_ - Wicked

The image of her from that day in the Scrow camp came to mind again and again. She looked so proud and fierce in that moment, increasing her beauty tenfold, or so it had seemed to him. But she was his Fae, and he didn't care what others thought of her. After all, there was a part of her that only he was allowed to see.

"Let them say what they want," he mumbled to himself, feeling somewhat empowered to be so close to her. They had no idea. _There must be a reason_, he tried willing himself to believe. _There must be a reason I'm so fortunate._

In that moment, everything had been perfect and peaceful. He remembered the abandoned way she fell into bed beside him. He had just gotten his sight back by-way of a miracle worker. For a little while they had been perfectly happy. Before things got complicated again…

Almost, almost he had gotten there again in Colwen Grounds but, he supposed, it was too reminiscent of the life he had turned away from: Kiamo Ko nestled up in the Great Kells. _Maybe I am a coward, but going back would be suicide_, he told himself, and despite this he turned his head westward. The Vinkus seemed to call to him, so much so that he could almost hear the sounds of rattles and flutes; the steady beat of drums. It was so strange; here he was nearly 36 and he scarcely grasped the things that made him tick.

He pushed those thoughts away, attempting to focus on the here and now.

Nor twisted milkweed thistles into her hair, humming to herself and looking altogether carefree. Watching her he wondered if maybe this little retreat was just as much for her as for him. Leave it to Elphaba to think of everything.

Still, she could allow him to see Amaris every so often. "And what you kept her away for almost five years." "With Elphaba's blessing I'll remind you, besides that's just like her to be vindictive like that." "Don't be daft, she's the mother. She has a right-" "And you're the father. What about your right? Elphaba's sicker than you. She wants you to hate her, to be some kind of misguided martyr for you. More of her damn guilty conscience." He shook his head. "It's normal though. What person doesn't secretly or openly hate their lover, just a little bit?"

"What," Nor asked, giving him a blank look.

"What," he repeated, startled by her sudden intrusion. He stared back at her with an equally blank expression.

She started to say something else but then closed her mouth and looked away. After awhile, she told him, "I heard from Manek last week."

He nearly jumped. "What? My son? Is he near, is he well?" He came down a little. "I am sorry. Its just been so long since I've heard anything of him. I want all my children here." And then he looked wistful.

"He seems well. He is staying somewhere in Munchkinland with her Eminence's brother. He couldn't say where or what they were about. There was no postmark or anything. Just my name."

"So he must have come here exactly and delivered it himself." The thought gave him a momentary thrill. But then the letdown, "Than he must know where I am too but left nothing for me. No wish to join me."

"He sounded like he was in a hurry. The mission her Eminence gave them seemed very pressing. He may have just not had time," she said brusquely.

He paused, considering this. She was trying to make him feel better. But then something else occurred to him. "Wait, Elphaba sent him on a mission with Shell. She must know where he is. She may have known all along."

"Oh I don't know. Maybe…"

"Why would she keep that from me?"

"She probably didn't want to upset you. If he didn't want to see you than why mention it?"

"I don't know," he said quietly. "Damn her. That love of hers is going to kill me some day."

"I'm sure she meant well," she added placatingly.

"Of course she did," he said, curling his fists into the grass. Was it always to be like this? A moment of happiness quickly dashed by something? His fault of course, for stewing in such matters, when he could just roll with the punches. Elphaba didn't mean anything by it, after all. She actually thought she was helping. But she had to know he would want to know.

He sighed. The real problem was that he was constantly at war with himself. All his previous struggles paled in comparison; how could he possibly win this battle? He asked Lurline for guidance, hoping that Elphaba was wrong, hoping that there were ears up there to hear. He got no reply but he decided to believe it was a call for more patience.


End file.
